The Battle in the Booth
by Anteater
Summary: When Booth comes back from Afghanistan, he is fighting a battle worse than any he saw in the Middle East. Will his friends be too hurt by his actions to help him when he needs it the most, when a case hits home? Mild spoilers for season 6.
1. Prologue

Prologue

The Addiction in Afghanistan

He woke up to what he hoped was a soft breeze rustling the leaves of the fig tree he was currently laying under. But he was wrong; there was no breeze here. The sounds of the fighter jets made it's way to his ears and even though instinctively he squinted up to the sky to try and catch a glimpse, he knew that he if heard them, they were already long gone, the only trace of them now the breeze they left behind.

Well, that, and the results of anything they may have dropped as they flew by.

Too bad they couldn't have stuck around longer, he thought. An extended breeze would have been nice. His skin felt sticky from the combination of sweat and dust that was always present on his skin these days. It didn't matter how many showers he took a day it wouldn't go away. Not that he could test that theory anyway since he was only allowed one short shower a day. With the limited water they had and a ton of guys on base, showers were a luxury.

And when he was 'training' people, he was lucky if he got a shower once a week. Turns out, when you are in the middle of the Afghani desert on your belly with your finger on the trigger for 3 days straight with the only breaks being to pop another caffeine pill, the last thing you are worried about was your BO. The only smell that ever reached your nostrils was fear and death

The self-recrimination and the guilt over the real reason he volunteered to come here plagued him on a daily basis; no, make that a minutely basis. Sure, he told Bones that he would only be training Afghani soldiers and while he had done some of that, lets just say his cosmic balance sheet was currently completely out of whack and in all the wrong ways. He was going to have to work for the rest of his life to get into the positive column again and he'd only been here four months. Because unlike the FBI, he did not have to fill out a report every time he fired his weapon. Here, the people he worked for wanted no such record of these bullets. The fewer the records the easier it was to deny that those bullets ever existed in the first place.

And ever since he had been here, the guilt was doing more than just wearing on his mind, conscious, and nerves. The base doctor prescribed him Protonix pills after discovering that he already had duodenal and stomach ulcers to prevent more damage to his abused stomach from the continual churning of gastric acid that was an unfortunate side effect of his guilt. He had also been prescribed some Xanax for sleep but he hated taking pills, hated feeling drugged out. The last thing he needed was to replace his gambling addiction with pharmaceuticals.

No, he switched his addiction from gambling to the blonde woman currently dozing in his arms after their recent recreational activities had tired her out. She was the exact balm his soul needed to keep surviving in this environment. The temporary amnesia that he experienced during and after mind-blowing sex with her was so much better than hitting the casino floors when he got home from his previous tours of duty. He was already hooked after only a month of knowing her and he was positive that he couldn't get enough.

Hannah didn't see the ugliness that surrounded him that he saw every morning when he looked in the mirror, that Bones confirmed was there with her rejection of him several months ago. He loved the pure lust he saw in her eyes when she looked at him. It made him feel like he was ten feet tall and invincible, which was a feeling he needed just to get through each day out here. To be honest, it was almost as good as the sex.

But his feelings for this woman were also scaring the crap out of him, too. He was already thinking about how to convince her to come back to Washington D.C. with him when he was done out here and he still had 8 months left in his contract. Whenever he was away from her, he could feel his need for her, the need to forget again crawling under his skin, itching to get out. He was in this crazy cycle right now, alternating between focusing on the kill and then quenching the insatiable need he had for her afterward. He found himself being thankful that she never refused him when he came for her because he wasn't sure what he would do otherwise.

He knew the atrocities he was capable of, he saw it everyday. He just prayed that she could keep them from carrying over into his personal life, into his real life. He found himself praying to her.

His personal angel.

A/N: Intrigued? Look for the first chapter tomorrow! In the meantime, leave a review. : )


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for the response so far. For those of you that are concerned about Hannah's presence in this story, just know that unlike the show, she has a very specific purpose for being here other than being in Booth's bed. ; ) So hopefully, that won't deter you from reading but if it does, I understand. Enjoy! It's going to be an angsty ride!

Chapter 1

The Addict in the Agent

He felt like shit.

Last night, he had skipped out on Angela and Hodgins' pregnancy announcement to be in bed with his girlfriend.

And this morning, he had three messages from Cam and one from Angela telling him what an asshole he was.

He had rationalized it last night on the way back to his place. What was the big deal anyway? Everyone already knew that they were pregnant. And about an hour before she had called him, he felt that itching under his skin again, that need to be with her in every sense of the word. There was no way he was going to be able to sit and be happy for his friends while he knew Hannah was in his bed, waiting for him, so they were better off without him anyway.

Of course, after the anger he heard in Cam's voice on her message, he wasn't even sure he could call them his friends anymore.

But what did it matter anyway? He was an FBI agent with a beautiful son and a smoking hot girlfriend. What did he need a bunch of nerd squints for?

All of his rationalizations though didn't make him feel any better. He reached into his bedside table and pulled out his Protonix pills, taking a couple to hopefully stop the churning he felt in his stomach but they never helped. There was only one thing that could do that anymore and she was currently in the shower.

He was in bed still, blissfully remembering their activities last night. After just wrapping up a case, he felt the stress and tension within his muscles, within his bones. The only outlet he had found so far was inside of her. And that gratification was the only thing keeping him going right now. As proof of that, currently he was thinking of ways to convince Hannah to play hooky with him today, to just say in bed with him so he could try to quench his undying thirst for her.

The unfortunate ringing of his phone interrupted him from his very important thoughts.

"Booth," he answered gruffly, wanting the person on the other end to know that their interruption was not welcome.

"Booth, it's Dr. Brennan," he heard her say and automatically he winced. She was the last person he wanted to talk to right now. Ever since he had gotten back from Afghanistan, her voice grated on his every nerve. He didn't even want to look at her anymore, didn't want to see the eyes that knew him better than anyone else to examine his actions, to pick him apart like she did with her bones. It was almost as if he could feel her disapproval of him through her eyes and it pissed him off. What should she care what he was doing? She obviously did not want any part of the life he built around her for the last 3 years so as far as he was concerned, she could go screw herself.

"What is it, Bones? I'm really busy right now," he said. It was a bald-faced lie but he would say anything to get her off the phone.

"Booth, could you come by the lab today? I have some papers for you to sign to finish up the chocolate case," she said. If he were paying attention, he could hear the hurt in her voice at his dismissal but he choose not to pay attention. And the absolute last thing he wanted to do was go to the lab today.

"Bones, could you just fax it to my office? I'll just sign it and fax it back to you," he told her, reiterating the way they had done business since his stint in Afghanistan ended.

He heard her sigh through the phone line. "Booth, I just think it would be nice for you to come talk to Hodgins-"

"Bones, I don't care what you think okay? You stick to your squint thing and I'll stick to my people thing and we'll get along like we always have. Bones, I gotta go. I'll call you when we get our next case." And with that, he hung up, hoping that she got the message and wouldn't bother him anymore.

"Who was on the phone, baby?"

He turned to see her leaning against the door of his bathroom, wrapped only in a soft blue towel and drying her blonde hair with a smaller towel. He never got tired of staring at her, the light from the bathroom framing her and making her look like the angel, the savior she had become to him.

"Nobody. It was a wrong number," he answered, not sure why he lied to her. Hannah had been so understanding about his partnership with Bones but it was like, subconsciously, he did not want Bones tainting any part of his relationship with Hannah. His girlfriend didn't know some of the more complex things in his life and if he had anything to say about it, she would never know. She couldn't leave him, she just couldn't.

Feeling his need for her rise up within him yet again, he took her face in his hands and brought his lips to her own. She responded as sensuously as she normally did, opening her mouth to his and slipping her tongue inside his mouth. His hands began wandering underneath her towel, silently persuading her that work was something neither of them should do today. As if reading his thoughts, she pulled away and he was thrilled to see the regret in her eyes.

"Seeley, I have to go into work today. I have an interview this morning with the White House Press Secretary that I absolutely cannot miss. I'm sorry, baby."

He was sorry too. But he wasn't going to argue with her, he was just grateful that she joined the Washington Press Corp in the first place. She did it for him, even though she missed the action of being out in the field. When he found out that she had placed his needs, his happiness above her own, he fell more deeply in love with her than he was before. He couldn't remember the last time someone had done that for him. His whole life he had been taking care of other people, first his dad and Jared, then his buddies in the Army, then Parker and Bones; it was nice to have someone take care of him for a change.

"It's all right, babe, I understand. I should probably head into the office and finish up some paperwork anyway."

"You know, the interview is only in the morning and then I should have the write up done by this afternoon. You just finished a case, right?" she asked tracing patterns on his bare chest. He nodded, half listening to her and half trying to repress his physical reaction to her touch, even though he definitely needed to take a cold shower before work.

"Then why don't you take a half day today and then we can get out of town for a few days, head up to a B&B in Vermont or New Hampshire? We can take a long weekend together, forget to turn our cell phones on… what do you say Seeley?"

That had sounded like the best idea he ever heard. Dimly, he realized that he had no idea whether or not he was supposed to have Parker this weekend. And his guilt started all over again when he thought about the fact that he was thinking about putting his lust for his girlfriend ahead of spending time with his son. Wanting to forget again, he stared into her eyes, wanting to lose himself.

Because right now, she was the only good thing about him, the only thing pure about him. The rest of him felt dirty and tainted.

"That sounds perfect," he told her, forcing a smile and making a mental note to check his calendar when he got into the office. Her answering smile had the exact effect he was looking for; it made him feel invincible again.

An hour later, he was walking into his second least favorite place: the J. Edgar Hoover FBI Building with the first currently being the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab. His work environment was another thing that changed since his return from Afghanistan. Word had spread quickly that his girlfriend was a prominent member of the Washington Press Corp and suddenly, nobody talked to him anymore, everyone worried some of their case details would end up on the front page of the Washington Post. Booth always rolled his eyes at their ignorance; if they thought he and Hannah were talking about cases over dinner, they were very much mistaken. When him and Hannah were home, there was not much talking at all, the only vocalizations coming in the form of moans or grunts of pleasure.

Whatever, he told himself. He didn't need any of them. It was probably better for everyone that he didn't participate in the office gossip. Checking his calendar, he was relieved to see that his weekend with Parker was next weekend so he could go away with Hannah. Instantly, some of the tension he had been feeling all morning was released and he finally felt like he could sit still for a couple of hours.

The morning passed quietly, the only interruption being an agent dropping by the paperwork that Bones faxed to him. He worked efficiently, his only thoughts on getting done early so he could start his weekend.

That itching feeling started again.

For the second time that day, the phone interrupted his thoughts about his girlfriend.

This was getting to be an annoying pattern.

"Booth," he answered in the same gruff tone that he had this morning.

"Seeley, what the hell is going on with you? Why haven't you been answering my calls? I called you three times last night."

Shit. It was Cam.

"Don't call me 'Seeley,' Camille," he said, trying to stop the headache he felt coming on by massaging his temples, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder.

"Cut the crap, Booth. You know I have never taken any crap from you and I am not about to start today. Where were you last night?"

"Cam, I don't need to explain myself to you but for your information I was spending an evening in with my girlfriend. We hadn't seen each other for a couple of days. We're in love, Cam, it's not unusual for people in love to want to spend time with each other," he told her, seriously considering hanging up the phone. He would have too, but he knew Cam would keep calling back until she said what she felt she had to say. He didn't understand why but lately, his friends were driving him absolutely crazy. Were they always this intrusive into his personal life?

"That's all well and good Booth but that doesn't mean you have to isolate yourself from the people you care about you. You could've just brought Hannah last night, Booth. I know for a fact that Angela and Hodgins' were in a 'the more the merrier' kind of mood."

"Cam, if we were out in public last night, we definitely would have been arrested for indecent exposure," he told her, not stopping the leer that spread across his face as he thought about last night.

"Damn it, Booth, will you start thinking with your brain and not your dick for once? Last night, your friends, the people you have worked with for seven years, had a huge announcement that they wanted to share with their family. They considered you a part of that family and you let them down for a roll in the sack with your girlfriend, something you could have done later that night. What the hell is wrong with you, Booth? Why have you been avoiding us so much?"

"Look, Cam, I'm not really avoiding you guys. But some of us actually have a life now and would like to live it without interference from noisy co-workers," he said, knowing that would hurt her but desperate for them to just leave him alone. He knew his words had their intended effect when there was a long pause at the other end of the line. He was just about to hang up the phone when she started talking again, but this time he heard no anger, no malice in her voice. Just concern.

"You know what, Booth, I don't know what your problem is, maybe you've got some PTSD after coming home. But don't you think for one minute that all the solutions to your problems start with isolating yourself from your friends." He heard her sigh. "Listen, I would suggest not coming around here for the next couple of days. Angela and Hodgins are really upset with you and Dr. Brennan-"

"Don't, Cam, okay? You don't need to tell me about how the squint squad is upset that I choose to spend time with my real family instead of them. I'll send Angela some flowers or something. Just leave me alone," Booth practically growled at her, now gripping the phone with white knuckles.

"Okay, Booth," she said and with that she finally hung up the phone. He slammed it down in the cradle, almost knocking it off his desk with the force of the action.

It was for the best, he kept telling himself as he downed some aspirin without water to try and stop the headache that was threatening to erupt. He didn't need them meddling in his life. Ever since he had started to work with them seven years ago, they had an unhealthy relationship, with the line between the personal and professional aspects of their life's smearing to where it didn't even exist anymore. He was doing the right thing by enforcing that line again. Why didn't they see that?

* * *

Brennan was in her office; going over revisions her editor had just sent on her latest book. In this one, Dr. Kathy Reichs has to investigate the case without her partner as Andy Lister was on an undercover assignment. She was not surprised when her editor was not pleased with his absence. But ever since Booth has stopped coming around and had only become her work partner (and sometimes not even that, she thought bitterly), she had trouble writing for Lister. Begrudgingly, she finally admitted to herself that Booth was her inspiration for Lister. An inspiration that had completely dried up.

"Sweetie, what are you doing this weekend?" Angela asked as she breezed into her office, not bothering to knock. Of course, thinking back, Brennan wasn't sure she ever remembered Angela knocking.

"Just some revisions on my novel," she answered honestly. Since this last case had wrapped up she knew that she would have some time all to herself and she was thankful for it. This book really needed to get done before she lost the inspiration to write all together.

"We should go shopping. I'm getting too fat for my normal clothes and I found this really cute boutique that sells adorable maternity wear."

"Angela, you're not getting fat, you're pregnant," Brennan instructed her.

Angela smiled at her statement. "Believe me, Bren, I know that. But whether or not my expanding waistline is due to pregnancy or other reasons, the end result is still the same: I need new clothes."

"Okay, Ange, I'll go shopping with you," Brennan agreed, excited at the prospect of going out with her friend. Ever since Ange had gotten married to Hodgins and Booth had Hannah, she found herself staying in more than she had in the past. Surprisingly, she found the she missed the human interaction that had once scared her. Just as Angela stood up to leave her office, Brennan felt her stomach signal to her that it was definitely lunchtime.

"Ange, do you want to grab some lunch?"

"Bren, it's Friday," Ange told her with a frown.

"I am well aware of the day, Angela. What does that have to do with getting lunch?" Brennan asked her, confused as to why this matter was even brought up in the first place.

"Don't you always get lunch with Booth on Fridays?"

Brennan couldn't help her wince at the mention of her partner's name. She couldn't even remember the last time they hung out together outside of work and her memory was much better than the average person.

"We don't do that anymore, Ange. We haven't done that for a while now. So, lunch?" she asked, wanting to change the subject, getting up from her desk and grabbing her coat.

"Of course, why would Special Agent Douche Bag do anything with his partner and friend of six years?" Angela muttered but Brenna heard her clear as day.

"Ange…" Brennan said warningly.

"No, Bren, don't you dare try and defend him. What he did last night to Hodgins and I felt like a slap in the face and it is going to take a lot of groveling and apologizing on his part for us to even begin to forgive him. But what he has done to you since he has gotten back with his little girlfriend is unforgivable Bren, and you know it."

"Ange, I told him to move on. Besides, Booth thinks of us as family, he was the one who originally told me that there was more than one type of family," Brennan insisted, not sure as to why she was still defending him when he had been the source of her tears for the last six months.

"But apparently family doesn't matter when you have a blonde doing the spread eagle in your bed."

"Angela, stop it! This isn't Hannah's fault; it isn't even Booth's fault. I'm sure it was just a misunderstanding last night."

"Well, Bren, I'm still glad he has you to defend him because the rest of us are pretty glad he doesn't hang around here anymore," Angela finished, her anger draining out of her. "Well, I've wasted enough breath on him for the day and Junior thinks your suggestion of lunch is a good idea. I'm thinking Indian food…" Angela trailed off, absently stroking her abdomen.

Brennan sighed heavily as she followed Angela out of her office. Truthfully, she was glad he wasn't hanging around the lab anymore either.


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the response to the last chapter! I am seriously overwhelmed with gratitude. A special thanks to GCatsPjs, who convinced me this story was not total crap : ) Enjoy and please leave a review!

Chapter 2

The Agent in the Argument

It was Monday. And Mondays generally tended to suck.

This one was no different.

After a weekend with Hannah in a beautiful little bed and breakfast in Vermont, he was back at work again and currently driving to a crime scene. In the bad part of town, in the rain. And perhaps the worst part of this whole situation was that Bones and Cam were going to meet him there.

And the hits just keep on coming, he thought to himself as the rain started falling horizontally.

He had woken up this morning with a sense of calm that he only felt after spending time with his girlfriend and that calmness that extended into the first couple of hours of work this morning. It was so nice to have that feeling again, the feeling that he could do his work without everyone looking at him, evaluating his competence at every step. He loved that Hannah gave him the confidence he needed to do his job and do it well, just like she did when they met in Afghanistan.

That feeling lasted all morning, until he got the call from Hacker that him and Bones had a new case. In the past when he called about a case, they would arrange to take one car to the crime scene. But this was not the past so when he called, he didn't offer a ride and she didn't ask for one, only asking about the address so she and Cam could drive themselves.

And this one sounded like a doozy. He could already feel the tension that this last weekend erased slowly seeping into his bones again.

A body had been found tied up and mutilated in a warehouse near the Potomac River that was once used by the Army. The military had long since abandoned this area of town but since the government still owned the land, the case fell into the laps of the FBI. And this body was so mutilated and burnt to a crisp; the agents who already were assigned to the case decided that this one needed to be handled by Booth and his band of squints.

Stopping his car outside the warehouse, he already saw the Jeffersonian car and also a crowd of people gathered around, trying to peer inside to see what all the commotion is about. Even better, Booth thought with a grimace.

Not bothering with an umbrella, he got out of his car and jogged to the opening of the warehouse, pushing past people as he went. Sure enough, Bones and Cam were already hunched over the body in their Jeffersonian suits and their gumboots. And this one would definitely require the use of gumboots.

As he walked into the warehouse, he saw something that was definitely out of place: a tiny head peeking with curious eyes out from behind one of the boxes that the military had left behind when they had moved out. Looking closer, he saw it was a little boy, probably close to Parker's age.

"Hey, kid, you can't be in here," he said as he walked over to where the boy was hiding out. "Go on, get out of here," he called after the boy as he ran out to the opening of the warehouse, where Booth could tell his dad was waiting for him. Booth had seen the look in that man's eyes before and he knew that it couldn't mean anything good. But he didn't have time to deal with that right now. He just wanted to figure out what the squint's preliminary findings were and then get back to the warmth and dryness of his office.

"What do you guys think?" he asked without any preamble, taking his index cards out of his breast pocket along with his signature naked lady pen.

"Nice to see you, too, Booth," Cam snarked at him and Booth was not amused.

"Cam, we are in the middle of a warehouse with a dead body, it is cold, it is raining and I'm pretty sure we all just want to do our jobs and get out of here so I didn't think it was necessary to start with pleasantries. Is that okay with you?" he returned, extremely annoyed with her.

"Booth, this victim is female, aged 35-40 years old, probably of African-American descent," Bones said as if nothing had happened. At least that was something he could always count on; Bones was ready to work.

"Anything else?" he said, keeping his eyes on his index cards, not visually acknowledging the two women yet.

"Nothing I can say with any certainty but it looks like there is an entry wound here, presumably from a high powered weapon from the pronounced beveling at the site, at the suture between the parietal and occipital bones and presumably, the victim was set on fire but I cannot determine if it was pre or pose mortem."

"Gee, Bones, even I could tell this person was set on fire," he snapped at her, still not looking up from his notes.

This time, Cam didn't say anything but he could feel the daggers coming from her glare as if they were really piercing her skin.

"There is nothing else I can discern about the body here, I need the equipment and the conditions back at the lab," Bones told them and Booth could hear the hurt in his voice. But for some reason, he couldn't bring himself to apologize to her.

"Okay, my work here is done then. Ladies, it's been fun," he said, slipping his index notes and pen back in his breast pocket and swiftly turning around to walk back to his car.

Even through the rain, he could spot a flurry of movement from around the back of the truck Bones and Cam had come in and while his friends were driving him crazy, it didn't mean that it wasn't his job anymore to protect them. And he took his job very seriously. Drawing his gun from his shoulder holster, he used his skills acquired by and recently honed during his tour of duty to sneak around the side of the car.

"I thought I told you not to attract any attention! These people work for the federal government, boy, and now that you just had to have a second look, you may have ruined everything you worthless piece of crap!"

At the sound of a slap, the only thing Booth saw was red.

* * *

Brennan packed up her supplies, directing the techs around the scene on how to make sure all the evidence she needed would remain intact. At least it kept her mind off the stinging rejection from her partner.

"Dr. Brennan, are you okay?" Cam asked her when she was finally alone, not wanting to confront her around the other people in the professionals at the scene.

Brennan tried to hide the panic in her eyes. She wished she knew what to do in these situations. Her need to talk to Cam about what just happened overwhelmed her but as usual, she couldn't find the words to adequately express her hurt and betrayal over Booth's actions. She hated psychology. So instead of being inarticulate and embarrassing herself by stumbling over her words, she did what she was used to doing in these situations: run.

"Cam, I need to get something from the car. Can you make sure that they don't forget to bag the victim's hands so that any trace evidence still remains?" she asked, already walking away, not seeing Cam's nod to her statement.

Not even noticing the rain that was still pouring, seemingly now with greater intensity, she walked straight to the passenger side of the car, wanting to escape people for a few minutes. But for some reason, the crowd of people that had been curiously looking into the door of the warehouse had migrated over to the car.

"Stop it! You'll kill him!"

The woman's voice finally brought her out of her Booth-imposed trance. Running to the vehicle, she saw something that truly terrified her.

"Booth, what are you doing?" she said, running to him and trying to pull him off the man that he would have surely beat to death without her intervention.

He didn't seem to hear her though and brought his hand back and punch the man in his bloodied face again. Only this time, his fist caught another target and Brennan fell back to the ground as he accidently hit her in the eye.

She knew it was really bad when not even that could draw him out of his rage. The Booth she knew would be devastated if he ever hit her, accidently or otherwise. Instead, he didn't even flinch.

Getting back up, she grabbed his arms with the skill of someone beyond her years of karate experience and managed to finally drag her still swinging partner away from the man on the ground. In a move she had seen him perform in a countless number of times, she was able to use her body weight to swing him against the car, effectively stopping his movement.

"Bones, get off of me, damn it! That bastard deserves everything I'm dishing out. Let me go!"

She refused to listen to him, trying desperately to keep him from getting back to the man on the ground, who looked like he hadn't regained consciousness yet. But it as then that Brennan saw the reason for Booth's justified, yet overzealous attack.

Sitting ten feet away was the boy who they caught in the warehouse not 20 minutes ago, holding his side and now sporting a busted lip. Oh, Booth she thought sadly, her grip subconsciously loosening at discovering the reason why her partner had attacked that man, wondering if when he was a little boy in that exact same situation if he hoped some person would come and do the same thing he just did. To save him from the man who was supposed to love him.

"That man assaulted me!" the man on the ground yelled, one of his eyes already swelling shut.

"You're lucky I didn't shoot you, you son of a bitch! Is that what you call disciplining your kid? Why don't you pick on someone your own size?" Booth yelled, finally freeing himself from Brennan's hold, his rage returning full force.

"Hey, pal, what I do is my business, okay? And how I want to raise my kid is none of your concern!"

Brennan quickly stepped in front of her partner, trying to stop him from attacking again.

"Booth, stop it!" she yelled, but he was deaf to her pleas.

"If I even think you are going to hit that child again, I will not hesitate to kill you, do you understand?" Booth threatened, still advancing on the man on the ground.

"Booth! Dr. Brennan! What is going on here?" she heard Cam scream from besides her, obviously just arriving on the scene. Thank goodness, Brennan thought, thinking that maybe Cam could help her hold Booth back. Brennan turned to Cam, feeling helpless and hating the feeling but she tried to turn away when she heard Cam's gasp. "Dr. Brennan, what happened to your eye?"

This finally seemed to draw Booth's attention away from the man on the ground and for a minute, she saw a look of concern in his eyes, a look her old partner used to get whenever she was hurt. But then she also saw when it dawned on him that he was the source of her probably already black eye. The hardening of his jaw and the blank, distant look he adopted reminded her more of the man she knew now.

"I've got to get out of here," he muttered, digging in his pockets for the keys to his SUV.

"Booth, wait, where are you going?" she asked, trying to grab his arm but he pulled away, refusing to meet her eyes.

"Leave me alone, Bones," he said, his voice scaring her with the deadness of it.

"Booth you shouldn't be alone right now," Brennan pleaded with him, following him to the driver side of his car.

"Yeah, well I shouldn't be with you either right now."

"Booth, what happened? You used to trust me," she told him, not able to keep the hurt out of her voice or her face. But Booth continued to avoid looking at her and she was convinced that he stopped listening to her a long time ago.

"No offense, Bones, but it's been a long time since I've trusted you with anything. Now leave me alone. I'll call you when I need more details about the case."

Brennan stepped back from the door like he had slapped her, this blow more painful than the one she sustained earlier when he accidently hit her in the eye. And with that, with even sparing a glance at her or Cam, he started his car and sped away, leaving smoke from his hasty exit.

"Do you want to press charges, sir? Before you answer that, though, think very carefully about if you want the investigation into your personal life that such charges will bring about," she heard Cam asking the man, finally realizing that she was still staring in the direction that Booth left in.

"No, I don't want to press charges. But that guy is seriously crazy! He should not be carrying a weapon around!" the man told Cam, finally getting up off the ground as the crowd around them dispersed. The man grabbed his son and then dispersed with the rest of them.

"Booth better not come around the lab for the rest of today, or tomorrow for that matter," Cam told her as they got in their own vehicle to head back to the Jeffersonian.

"Why is that, Cam? I thought you would want the case solved quickly," Brennan asked as she started the ignition and drove off, truly curious.

"Because if he does, I'm going to kick his ass! What the hell is he thinking?"

"I wish I knew, Cam. He is behaving very irrationally right now." She paused for a minute, debating whether or not to disclose what was really on her mind. "He said he didn't trust me anymore," she finished quietly, ashamed at the thought that she may have lost her partner's trust and worried that it might be true.

"Brennan, I am absolutely, one hundred percent positive that he didn't mean that. Right now, he just doesn't know which way is up."

"But the sky is always up, Cam. How could he not know that?" Brennan asked, even more worried than before. Maybe he was more far-gone than she realized.

"No, Brennan, I mean that he is just confused and angry and is taking it out on the easiest targets. We've all seen changes in him since he got back from the Middle East and none of us know what happened over there. Has he talked to you about it?"

"No, and normally he would have by now. Booth's overly development feminine side causes him to want to express his feelings more than other alpha males," Brennan stated factually, relying upon her experience as an anthropologist when everything else became too confusing for her to analyze and compartmentalize.

"Pft, I wouldn't let Booth hear you say that," Cam retorted.

The women spent the rest of the drive in silence, each trying to figure out what was wrong with their friend.

The minute they walked into the Jeffersonian though, the silence ended abruptly.

"Brennan, what happened to your eye?" Angela asked, coming over to her to examine her more closely.

"Nothing, Ange, I'm fine. Booth just got a little carried away-"

"Booth did that?" Hodgins interrupted, coming down off the forensic platform that dominated the majority of the lab. "He has gone too far now, Dr. B. I don't care that he is bigger than me and that I have seen him shoot cantaloupe with deadly accuracy right in front of me with an old rifle, when I see him I am going to, well, I don't know but I'm going to be mad!"

"Hodgins, dear, don't strain yourself too much, okay?" Angela told her husband, rubbing his back to try and calm him down as she spoke. "What happened today, Bren? And don't you dare try and defend him."

Brennan sighed. "Booth must have witnessed a man slapping his son because when I walked around the car, he was beating the man, he was beating him really badly. When I tried to stop him, his fist came up to strike him again and instead he accidently clipped me. But it's not a big deal, the other man is not pressing charges," Brennan added quickly at the end, trying to convince herself that that fact alone made the whole situation better.

The silence in the lab was so awkward that even Brennan felt it, each person trying to figure out for himself or herself what was happening to their friend, if he was even the same man they had come to know and respect. The rest of the afternoon passed in a similar fashion and for once, Brennan was thankful that there was a body on the table that they could all focus on. This made sense, this was ordered; everyone had a job to do and they were well versed and proficient in completing it. Bones she could read and through them, she could help the victims find peace even though it was after death. She had no idea how to do any of these things with her very alive partner.

Like usual, she was the last one left at the lab that night, going over the X-rays one more time before she closed up for the night when her phone rang.

"Dr. Brennan," she answered, hoping for and dreading that it could be Booth on the other line.

"Dr. Brennan, it's Cam. Are you still in your office?"

"Yes, why?" she asked, not bothering with pleasantries.

"Turn on the television."

"What channel?" she asked, getting suspicious and grabbing her remote off the coffee table in her office.

"Any channel."

Heart rate increasing, she did as Cam instructed and was horrified by what she saw.

"Cam, is this what I think it is?" she asked, unsure any of this was really happening, desperately hoping that it was not.

"Dr. Brennan, according to the reports, the man on the screen, the same man that Booth violently beat and argued with today in front of 20 witnesses, is dead. Shot with a round from a high-powered sniper rifle."

"Sniper rifle…of course! Why didn't I see it before?" Brennan said, running out of her office and onto the forensic platform to get another look at the skull, still on the phone with Cam.

"See what, Dr. Brennan?"

"The victim today. The beveling in the wound to the skull is so pronounced that it only could have been caused by a sniper rifle. I'll get Hodgins to analyze the particulates he scraped from the bones first thing in the morning. Cam, thank you for calling me about this. It could help break the case. We should call Booth and tell him that we could have a possible sniper out among the populace," she finished. But when she did not hear the click on the other end to signal that the call was over, she became suspicious as to her boss' motives for calling. "Cam, was there something else?"

"Did Booth ever contact you after he left the crime scene today? I already tried calling his phone but I couldn't reach him."

"No, he didn't call me. Why, Cam, what are you saying?" Brennan asked, figuring out where she was going but refusing to go down that road.

"Dr. Brennan, he is not himself right now. And he is one of the few men on the planet who could make the shot the police are describing."

"No, he would never, ever do this. Even if he is not himself, he is still not someone who would kill when it was not required. I'm sure the reason why he didn't call is because he spent the day with Hannah," she reasoned.

"Then why isn't he answering my calls now?"

She had no answers for Cam. She just hung up the phone and frantically tried calling her partner, hoping and praying for the first time since finding out about her existence that Booth had spent the afternoon in bed with his girlfriend.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

The Guilt in the G-Man

Her eye didn't look that bad, right? Booth thought to himself as he drove away from the crime scene, not even bothering to look in the rearview mirror of the SUV. He felt the rage within him finally start to dissipate. The sting from the torn flesh on his knuckles and the throbbing that accompanied the tissue injury came with the first wave of guilt he felt over what he just did. Not about beating the man, but about dragging Bones down to his level once again.

No, when he walked around the corner of his car and saw that guy beating on his kid, he knew what he had to do and had no regrets about his actions. Protecting that little kid, in that moment was more important than anything else in the world. He would do it again, in a heartbeat, without a doubt. It scared the shit out of him though that he had been so in the moment that he didn't even feel his fist make contact with Bones' face.

There was only one solution to this problem in his mind: spend more time with Hannah. She would make him feel in control again, like she did when they were in Afghanistan. He grabbed his phone and pressed his speed dial even though he knew her number by heart.

"Hannah Burley."

Almost instantly, all the tension in his body was released, his foot came off the gas pedal, and he could think again.

"Hey, baby, it's me. What are you doing right now?" he said, hoping it was nothing important and he could convince her to go to lunch with him.

"I'm right in the middle of getting my notes together for a lunch meeting I have with my editor. I can't wait to get rid of this interview story; it is so dull that I don't even want to publish it."

He reacted to the lament in her voice as if it was his own. "I'm so sorry, babe. Is there anything I can do to help you out?" He felt partially responsible for her lack of job satisfaction since he was the reason that she was at this job to begin with. Her answering sigh made him feel even worse.

"No, I'm just ready to move onto my next story. Did you call about something in particular, Seeley? I'm really busy right now."

"No, it's nothing, I just wanted to see how you were doing," he lied, not wanting her to feel even worse for not being able to meet up with him.

"That's sweet of you but I have to go. I'll see you tonight."

Then she was gone. And he was lost again.

So lost that he didn't even realize where he had driven to until he stopped the car, in front of the hill that lead to Teddy's grave.

The place was empty, the nasty weather driving any potential visitors away. Ignoring the rain that was still falling steadily, he trudged up the hill, feeling like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders and no one to turn to to help shoulder the burden, all of his old haunts no longer available to him.

He knew he couldn't show his face at the lab, especially since he'd accidently hit Bones this morning. As much as he wanted to talk to Hannah about this, he couldn't have her believe that he might be capable of hitting women. That would lead to more questions about his past that he was comfortable with and she couldn't leave him. She was the one thing tethering him to his sanity right now and if she left, he wasn't sure what would happen.

He wanted so badly to call and apologize to her but he didn't know what to say. It was like ever since she'd broken his heart last year, the very second she had said she couldn't change; his instinctive knowledge on how to comfort her had vanished. Now he was afraid if he called her, he would just make the situation even worse. As if Angela probably hadn't already had Hodgins put out a hit on him.

Wincing, he stopped in front of the grave, realizing that the anniversary of Teddy's death was a couple of months ago and he completely forgot to come out to remember his friend. Just something else to add to his list of failures. He hoped that Claire had made the trip out but there were no flowers present, nothing to mark her remembrance of her past love.

"Hey Teddy," he started, not knowing why he was here yet. But deciding that maybe he just needed someone to talk to, someone who understood the rough adjustment back to civilian life, he just started talking.

"I went back there, Teddy. I know it is something we both said we would never do but everything else just didn't make any sense. Bones, my partner, the one you were talking to last time I 'saw' you, was going off to Mapoopoo to do some great work and the rest of the squints were happy and productive and I didn't know what else to do. You know I don't do well with change, Teddy, and I'm not really doing well with it right now either," he admitted softly, amazed that he said that out loud when he hadn't really even acknowledged it within himself yet.

"Right now, my son is so scared I'm gonna leave him again that he doesn't want to hang out with me and Rebecca is so pissed with me for leaving that she cut my time with him. Pops is at the retirement home and I don't want to worry him with this; I don't know if his health could take it. Jared and his fiancé are busy planning the wedding. The squint squad must think I am going to pull a Zack on them or something because they have been walking around on eggshells around me since I got back. Some of that is probably my fault but they don't know what it's like, Teddy. They live in the little world of their lab where everything is clean and sterile and nothing catches on fire. I don't know, everything just seems so different right know.

"And Bones, she is the most different of them all. Before, I would always have to be the one to initiate any physical contact between us and even if I did, I always kept it limited. But ever since she rejected me last year and especially since I got back from the Middle East, she is touching me all the time. And I hate to say it, man, but it makes me feel vile and dirty, like she is the only one who knows what's going on right now but she won't clue me in. Frankly, it drives me nuts. I don't know how to work with her anymore and there have been rumors that we are going to be split up. Hacker hasn't said anything directly yet but he's another one that I don't want to deal with anymore. Just a couple of months ago, I was running a unit of Afghani soldiers, hunting down the enemy and now this idiot thinks he can tell me what to do?

"But as annoying as all of them are, I really screwed up this morning, Teddy," he said softly, looking down at the ground, unable to look at where his friend lay while telling this part of the story. Hastily, he wiped the rainwater from his brow before continuing. "I hit her this morning, Bones, I mean. It was an accident of course, but I was so out of control that I didn't even realize that it happened. For a minute there, I felt like my old man and it scares the shit out of me, Teddy. I can't let that happen, I just can't. I don't know if Bones is ever going to want to talk to me again, I'm not sure I would if I were her. I just hope she can forgive me. Hopefully, after she does, I can forgive myself."

Booth sighed, closing his eyes and trying to calm himself down again. This seemed to be happening a lot lately. The buzzing of his phone in his pocket brought him back to his surroundings. Picking it up, he saw Cam's name flash across his screen and he silenced his phone, not wanting to talk to anyone but Teddy and Hannah right now. Looking around, he was shocked to find that the sun had set without him even realizing it. Rain still fell around and on him but he didn't feel it anymore, sufficiently drenched to the point where he didn't feel the rain that currently fell on him. Rechecking his phone, he saw that it was already 6 pm, and knew that he should leave. But he had one more thing to tell his friend.

"I haven't even told you about the best part of my life though. Her name is Hannah and she is my girlfriend, for almost a year now. She's amazing. Teddy. She doesn't ask me about my past, about my reasons for doing things; she just accepts me for who I am. When we are together, it's explosive, beyond anything else I've ever felt before. Last time I 'saw' you, you said that maybe you came back to help me tell someone that I love her. I think you were right but I just didn't know her yet. I think I love her but I need to know that she loves me back before I say anything. I made that mistake once and there is no way I'm going down that road again. But just between you and me, Teddy, I bought a ring last month and I was thinking about asking her to marry me. I would do it right now but I think it might be too soon for her. Now I know what you must have been thinking when you were with Claire. But I trust you, Teddy, and I know you will help me out. Thanks for listening, man. I'll come back soon, I promise."

And with that, he walked back to his car, feeling much better than he had when he got here, but still incredibly guilty for his actions this morning.

Unlocking his apartment, he peeked inside to see that all the lights were off, meaning Hannah hadn't come home yet. He was instantly relieved and terrified at the same time; relieved that she didn't have to see him like this but ever since she had gotten shot, he was terrified that something would happen to her. He knew she loved the adventure and the action, after all, they met in Afghanistan, but it didn't when that he liked the idea of her chasing down leads out there on her own.

The buzzing of his phone startled him and all of the sudden, he was filled with hope; the hope that his girlfriend was on the phone. His stomach twisted anxiously, like a teenager going to pick up his first date.

But that hope shattered when he looked at the caller ID and saw that Cam was calling him. Again.

Disappointed and distraught, he turned his phone off and headed for the shower. Looking in the mirror, he grimly realized he could barely recognize the man who looked back at him. Sure, he looked pretty much the same but it was the look in his eyes that really scared him. He hadn't seen that look since he woke up in an alley behind the Las Vegas Sands, broke and beat up, ready to call Pops and go to a GA meeting.

Things would be better soon, though, as soon as Hannah got home. That tended to make everything better.

About an hour later, he was parked on the couch, watching the Flyers game on ESPN with a bottle of water in his hand. He already had enough trouble thinking of himself as his father today, the last thing he needed was to drink any alcohol. Even though the game was on, he didn't know the score, his mind completely preoccupied by wondering where his girlfriend was this late at night.

Luckily for his sanity, ten minutes later he heard keys rattling outside his door and then slipping into the lock.

"Hey, Seeley, I'm home," he heard her call out. He started to get off the couch but stayed put as she practically skipped into the living room, straddling his lap and planting her lips on his. Happily surprised, he immersed himself in the kiss, not missing the opportunity to run his hands over her body at the same time.

"Good day, I assume?" he asked, panting when they broke apart for oxygen. Everything, in this moment felt right in the world. When she graced him with her blinding smile, his world was on the right axis again. He needed this, this feeling; he needed it as badly as air.

"It was boring in the morning but really picked up this afternoon. Actually, it's the reason why I was so late tonight; I got a new story that I'm really, really excited about," she told him and Booth could feel her excitement. It thrilled him that she was finally happy here, that she might not resent him for leaving everything she loved to take a chance on him. He was so grateful to her for that.

"That's great! Can you talk to me about it?" he asked her, not really caring about the subject of the story but wanting to keep her enthusiasm up.

"I can do you one better; I actually need your help with this one. Don't worry, no questions about case related details from the FBI," she told him, noticing that he was about to interrupt her. "I convinced my editor to give me the D.C. sniper case and I just need information about what happens inside the mind of a sniper, what makes him tick."

He froze at her words, the sense of calm that he normally experienced in her presence completely melting away and replaced with the normal feeling of panic and tenseness he had lived with since he first got to Afghanistan. She couldn't know, he couldn't tell her what she wanted to know. If she knew the coldness in his heart then she would leave him and he felt nauseous just thinking about that possibility.

"Hannah, I don't think I can tell you about that," he told her, not wanting to disappoint her but worried about her rejection if she knew who he really was.

"Seeley," she said, framing his face with her hands and bringing his eyes back to hers. "I am the new person around and I need to prove myself. The only reason why my editor gave me the case was because I told him I could get the personal angle that none of the other reporters could, because of my connection to you. I really need you to do this for me, baby. I have to nail this story."

He couldn't believe this was happening. She was supposed to be his safe place, the only stable and good thing in his life right now. How could she ask this of him? Bones would never ask, he thought, immediately angry with himself for comparing the two women.

Looking into Hannah's eyes, he could immediately tell that she had no idea the toll her request was taking on him. How could she though? Did she even really know him? She couldn't have; he didn't let her. When his mind finally caught up with him, he realized he was missing a very important detail of the story.

"Wait a minute, what D.C. sniper?" Booth asked, feeling her let go of his face and climb off his lap. Usually when she left his side, he felt bereft and instantly alone, but oddly, now he only felt relief. What was happening to him?

"Where have you been all day, Seeley? It's been on the news. According to the D.C. police and the FBI, there have been two victims murdered from hundreds of yards away with a high-powered sniper rifle, hence the name 'D.C. sniper.' I'm surprised you haven't heard of it before; according to what I've dug up so far the first body was transported to the Jeffersonian-Medico Legal lab this afternoon and the second victim's body will be heading there right now," she finished but Booth was no longer paying attention, the numerous phone calls from Cam this afternoon suddenly making sense.

Cursing himself for turning it off, he quickly turned his phone on and subsequently almost dropped it when it rang immediately.

"Hannah, give me a minute, okay? I seemed to have missed some calls from work. Why don't you get cleaned up and then we'll grab some dinner, okay?"

She answered by giving his hand a squeeze before going back to their bedroom.

"Booth," he answered.

"Booth, thank goodness you're okay. Where are you? Where have you been all day? Cam has been trying to reach you," he heard Bones tell him.

"Hannah and I are at my apartment," he told her, not knowing why he included his girlfriend in his statement. "What's up, Bones? Does this have to do with the supposed sniper running wild in D.C.?"

"Where did you hear that the sniper was running wild, Booth? There have been no reports of that. Did you find something else out?"

"No, Bones, it's a figure of speech. What is going on, Bones? Why wasn't I told about this?" he asked, getting more and more frustrated.

"I don't know, Booth. You left in a hurry today. I thought that you wouldn't want to be bothered with anything unless it concerned your part of the investigation. You don't seem to have much patience for the lab anymore." Hearing the sincerity in her voice added another stab of guilt to his already battered conscious. He tried to think of something to say to her, something to let her know that he still valued her as a colleague and a friend but like every other time since he got back, he couldn't find the words. Luckily, a beeping on his end signaled another call was coming through.

"Bones, I have to go, someone's calling in on the other line. I'll see you in the lab tomorrow first thing, and we can go over what we know so far together, okay?" Not bothering to hear her answer, he switched over to the other line.

"Booth."

"Agent Booth? It's Assistant Director Hacker. Your presence is required down here at the Bureau immediately."

"Sir, what's this about?" Booth asked, his hackles rising and not liking what his gut was screaming at him.

"There are some…questions that have arisen about your involvement in two recent deaths in the D.C. area."

"'My involvement?' What the hell is that supposed to mean?" he growled into the phone. If he was going to be accused of committing murder, he wanted to be told up front, not hide behind nuances and bureaucracy.

"Agent Booth, I can't say anything more on the phone. I need you to come down here right now to answer some questions."

"And if I respectfully decline, sir?" he said, not bothering to hide the contempt in his voice. He rubbed his hand through his hair during the pause on the other end of the line in a gesture that expressed his anxiety.

"Then I will have no choice but to issue a warrant for your arrest."


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The Suspicion in the Squints

"Hey, babe, did you hear that our FBI liaison, Special Agent Asshole, has killed two people?"

Angela pierced her husband with a world-class glare.

"Not funny, Jack."

"I didn't say it was funny. Actually, I think it is pretty un-funny. Whatever they did to him over there, it messed him up pretty bad," Hodgins said as he snuck some coffee into his coffee mug, hoping that his caffeine deprived, hormone raging pregnant wife wouldn't kill him for having some when she couldn't.

They were upstairs, in the lab's "break room," having gotten here very early this morning because Angela couldn't sleep and because Brennan had called them, saying that Booth was currently in FBI custody. According to Brennan, he was being investigated for apparently having some kind of role in the deaths of the two latest victims that came into the Jeffersonian.

"Do you think he could have done it, Jack?" Angela asked him as she sat down at the table in the lounge and shoved two, day-old donuts in her mouth. Since he valued his life, Hodgins choose not to comment on that fact.

"Do I think he could have done it? Absolutely. You and I both saw him shoot those two cantaloupes with that old rifle straight through while they were moving and in a short period of time. Booth possesses the skills necessary to complete the shots that the FBI has described and in the manner they have described them happening. I'm just disappointed that they caught him so easily. You think he'd had learned something about how to get away with murder, hanging around here so much," he told her, truly believing what he said. But at the distraught look on her face, he decided that it might be appropriate to amend his statement.

"But do I think that he did it? No. My theory is that the Booth we all know and love was abducted by aliens while in Afghanistan and was replaced with the current douche bag-model we are dealing with right now. So, see, he couldn't have done it because he is in some alien space craft right now where they are conducting tests on whether or not his lack of chest hair means he is actually more highly evolved like he claims."

"Jack, if your next statement is 'the truth is out there,' I can't promise I won't get violent," Angela told him with another world-class glare. "But seriously, Jack, I'm so angry at him for being such a jerk to all of us, especially Bren, that I don't know if I even want to help him out. I could maybe forgive him for ditching out on our announcement but after he hit Brennan yesterday and gave her that black eye, I can't even look at him. And while I know that sounds really, really petty I can't help it. Unless he starts some serious apologizing, I don't really want to talk to him."

Hodgins came up behind her and rubbed her lower back, knowing that it helped when she started to feel stressed out.

"I feel the same way, Ange. Looks like he is finally showing some kinks in the FBI Standard Issue Body Armor your always talking about, huh?" he said softly.

"Kinks? More like huge, gaping cracks," Angela said under her breath. This whole situation along with the hormones racing through her from her pregnancy made everything completely overwhelming. She wanted to be the comforting shoulder that she normally was to Brennan, that she knew Brennan needed at this point, but she just couldn't do it. If Booth wanted to go play house with Hannah and leave them all behind, she wasn't going to stop him. She wasn't sure he was worth the effort.

"Just think of it as helping the victims find some justice, even if that justice points straight at Booth. You and I both know that Dr. B would want it that way; done by the book, exactly how it was done when her father was the one being investigated."

"Dr. Hodgins, you are exactly right," Cam told them as she too walked into the lounge, both mentally and physically exhausted. She had been with Caroline and Dr. Brennan at the Bureau last night, trying all night to see Booth and failing in their mission. According to Caroline, he was in it so deep that he was looking up at the center of the Earth. The only reason she and Dr. Brennan came back to the lab this morning was because Assistant Director Hacker told them in no uncertain terms that priority number one was the examination of the two victims currently on the forensic platform.

On the same forensic platform Dr. Brennan insisted in coming straight to when they walked into the lab this morning.

For what might have been the first time since working with him, she wished that Dr. Sweets was around. Instead, this just happened to be the one week that he and Daisy had decided to take a vacation together. And while she didn't miss Daisy's presence, she had an idea as to why Booth was acting the way he was but she needed it run it by him, their expert in psychology before she acted on it.

"Rough night, boss?" Hodgins asked with the usual mirth in his voice.

"Can it, Hodgins, or I'll tell Angela what is really in that mug you are holding," Cam countered, smirking when Hodgins turned as white as a sheet when Angela turned to him and grabbed his coffee mug.

"Jack, this had better be decaf…." she said warningly.

"So, any word from the Federal Bureau of Imagination?" Hodgins asked, desperately trying to get off this topic of conversation.

"So far, it is not looking very good for Booth. There are fifty witnesses, including Dr. Brennan and myself, who saw him beat the crap out of and threaten the second victim just hours before he was killed in a manner that only maybe two other people in the country are capable of besides Booth. So while there is not a shred of physical evidence that ties Booth to either of those two victims, Booth also has no alibi for the time this man was shot yesterday," Cam finished, rubbing a headache out of her temples that she had felt since last night.

"Then where was he yesterday afternoon? Didn't you try calling him?" Angela asked, suddenly concerned for her friend, at least the man she knew last year.

"He claims he was at Arlington National Cemetery yesterday, at the grave of a Corporal Edward Parker, but he has nobody to corroborate his story. So, for now, Caroline is fighting to get him released with some sort of monitoring system so the FBI can track his every move."

"Is that even legal? He hasn't even been charged with anything yet!" Hodgins exclaimed, his absolute hatred for 'big brother' and injustices within the government overcoming his anger towards the man those injustices were aimed at.

Cam smiled slightly at his outburst, glad to see a spark of the Hodgins she knew. "The FBI doesn't want to take any chances with this one, Dr. Hodgins. These types of cases always cause mass panic and they think they have a viable suspect in custody. They are going to do everything possible to track him so if he does it again, they have more evidence to bring him in and convict him. And since the suspicion is against one of their own, you bet they are going to do whatever they have to to keep this contained, no matter whose civil rights they violate."

The three of them sat in silence for a moment, the trouble their friend was in hitting home for the first time since they found out about the news.

"Why aren't any of you working?" they heard from the floor of the Jeffersonian. Allowing a small smile to cross her face, Angela answered her friend quickly, knowing any delay would just cause the scientist more distress.

"We'll be down in a minute, Sweetie," she called back, already getting to her feet, a task that was easier said than done these days. There was no way she was going to be a roadblock in her friend's relentless pursuit of justice. And she knew with her best friend at stake, Brennan would not rest until she found something to either convict him or set him free.

Once they gathered on the platform, Angela could see the effect the accusations against Booth had on her. While her hair was perfectly tied up and make-up in place, the bags under her eyes told the real story about her numerous sleepless nights, and her black eye told a more sinister tale. Probably not the first night in recent memory that Booth's behavior has kept her up, Angela thought bitterly.

They all stood, looking at Brennan, as if facing off against each other. Angela hated this feeling; she hated getting the sense that the squint squad was fractured. Although if she were honest with herself, the squint squad had been fractured for some time now with Cam trying frantically to hold the group together, but when the center had fractured, it was hard to keep the outside perimeter intact. And as much as she thought her work was important to the whole, nobody ever had any doubt that Booth and Brennan were the center.

"Why aren't we working?" Brennan asked them when they got up to the platform. She couldn't understand why nobody was working as diligently on this case as she was. If she were not at the Bureau last night with Booth, she most certainly would have been here, working on the bones, trying to get them to speak to her. And while she didn't normally expect that from them in any other cases, this one was about one of their own.

"Dr. B, we were sleeping last night. It's something normal humans have to do so they can re-charge-oof!" he finished as both Angela and Cam proceeded to slap him, one in the arm and the other on the back of the head.

"Dr. Hodgins, don't make me duck tape your mouth closed, because I will do it," Cam threatened, wondering how on earth someone with his IQ could be so stupid.

"Listen, people, I know Booth has not been his normal self as of late but we are professionals who have a job to do okay? We have two victims on the platform, one of which still needs to be identified. So let's just focus on that right now and get to work," Cam told them, noticing Brennan's grateful expression at the way she took charge. While she had no doubt that Brennan was a better scientist than herself, she knew she far surpassed her when it came to the administrative aspects of her job. The rest of the squints nodded, with Hodgins and Angela going to heir respective offices while Brennan and Cam donned their lab coats and gloves and got to work.

It was mid-afternoon by the they took a break, setting up all the tests that would take a couple of hours to complete and Angela had put the dental records of their unidentified victim into the database to run through the system, hoping for a match.

Brennan plopped down onto her office couch, leaning her head against the back of the couch and letting out a deep sigh. She was exhausted. Not only had she been up all night worrying about Booth but also she had not been sleeping well lately either. Coming back from Maluku, she was sure of what her life would be: she would go back to a job she loved with people who stimulated her intellectually and she would go back to working with Booth, now open to the possibility of starting a personal relationship, never even considering that he had actually moved on. But he did and in a big way. So she was left mourning the loss of her best friend but also the possibility of finding the love that Booth had promised her she would find. Because deep down she knew that Booth was the only one who she might be able to open up her heart to.

The ringing of her phone woke her up and made her realize that she had indeed fallen asleep at some point. Disoriented, she scrambled for her phone, not remembering where she left it this morning. Unfortunately, just as she felt like she was close to finding it, the ringing stopped. Well, at least now she knew the general area her phone was in, she thought, continuing to look for the now silent phone.

"Dr. Brennan, I think you need to see this," she heard Cam call from the lab. Abandoning the search for her phone, she quickly went out to the lab, knowing Cam would not have called her if it weren't important. She went out to see that the rest of the team was already assembled with Angela sitting at the computer, typing away.

"What is going on?" she asked, buttoning her lab coat and stepping up to the platform.

"We found the identity of the first victim," Angela said, not looking up from the computer. "Her name is Karrina Adams, a Washington D.C. divorce lawyer, and her husband reported her missing six days ago. The dental records are a match and my composite matches the photo of her on file."

The screen showed an African-American woman, most likely in her late-30's, wearing a business suit and smiling at the camera, looking like she did not have a care in the world. All in all, she perfectly matched the profile that they had drawn up during their initial examination. But as sad as she was for the family of this young victim, she was ecstatic at the same time. Surely, Booth would have no connection to this victim. Why would he have any dealings with a divorce lawyer when he wasn't even married? He could finally not be under suspicion anymore and they could go back to being partners again because even though it wasn't much, it was all she had left of him.

"Okay, let's notify Agent Perotta," Brennan said, walking off the platform again, back to the sanctuary of her office.

"Perotta?" Hodgins asked, looking to Cam for an explanation.

"Since Booth was considered a suspect in this case, the FBI assigned Perotta as our temporary liaison since she had success working with our eclectic bunch in the past," Cam said with a small smile as she left the platform, expecting a reply from their resident bug man.

"I prefer 'unique' thank you very much!" was the reply, eliciting an eye roll from his wife.

"Come on, bug man, you have particulates to identify," Angela told him, taking his hand and dragging him from the forensic platform.

"Hey, now that Booth is eliminated as a person of interest, Dr. B won't be such a slave driver. Let's go get some lunch instead," Hodgins told his wife, not taking 'no' for an answer and smiling as her laugh reached his ears.

Back in her office, Brennan was breathing easier, convinced of her partner's innocence. She had always known that he couldn't do this but it she also knew that from what they had learned about the shots, he was indeed one of the few people in the world that could. Should make it easy to find out who really did this, Brennan thought with satisfaction, logging on to check her emails before heading home for the day, exhausted beyond reason.

Her phone rang again and her frustration at not being able to find it earlier came back in full force. This time, however, she was successful in her quest and found her phone hiding in the pocket of her jacket that was currently hung up on the coat rack in the corner of her office.

"Brennan," she said not bothering looking at the screen to see whom it was, not wanting to miss the call again.

"Bones, it's me," was all he said. Brennan almost dropped the phone in surprise. She couldn't remember the last time he had called her without it being for a specific purpose.

"Booth, are you okay?" she asked immediately, concerned for his welfare.

"Are you busy right now? You weren't answering your phone."

"I was working most of the day and was away from my phone. Did the FBI finally release you?" she asked, just wanting to keep him talking.

"Yeah, they did, a couple of hours ago. But they are making me wear a piece of shit ankle monitor and I am suspended from all my duties until they do a full investigation. So since they took my car away, I took the Metro back to my place and have been doing some thinking since then." There was a pause over the line. "Bones, do you think we could meet somewhere and talk?"

Brennan stopped breathing for a moment, wondering if this was the same man she had worked with for the last several months.

"Will Hannah be coming too?" she asked before she could stop herself.

"No, Bones, Hannah is at work."

"Yeah, Booth, I could meet somewhere but I have work to finish up here first. Could we meet in an hour?" she asked, not really having any work to do but needing the time to compartmentalize everything she was feeling before going to see him.

"Sure, Bones. Want to meet at the reflecting pool, just like old times?"

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, not believing the emotions he brought up in her with one simple statement.

"Sounds good, Booth," she answered when she was sure her voice under control. She looked up at her monitor and saw the victim's profile and decided to ask one more thing before she hung up. "Hey, Booth, before you go, do you happen to know a Karrina Adams?" she asked, not really sure what inspired her to ask.

"The lawyer? Oh no, please don't tell me she is contacting you guys too."

Her heart stopped at his reply. "What do you mean?" she asked for clarification and feeling the need to pace.

"Karrina Adams is the lawyer Rebecca hired for the custody case she is filling in regards to Parker. Ever since I left for Afghanistan, Rebecca freaked out and is filling for sole custody. That lawyer she hired was asking around at the FBI, trying to find out about me before I found out and read her the riot act. Is she contacting you guys now for information about my character? Because she is not allowed to do that. I'm gonna call over there and let her know what she is doing is illegal."

"No, Booth, don't!" Brennan cried into the phone, wanting to stop her partner from doing anything stupid, well, more stupid than he had already done. "When was the last time you spoke with her?" she asked, desperately hoping there was another lawyer in the D.C area with the same name that was not dead.

"Probably about a week ago. Why, Bones? What's up?"

Brennan sat down on her couch, feeling extremely nauseous all the sudden. "No, it's nothing, Booth. I'll see you soon."

She hung up the phone and ran into Cam's office, startling her boss into almost falling out of her chair.

"Dr. Brennan, what's wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost," Cam asked, concerned that something could rattle Brennan this much.

"What? Dr. Saroyan, there are no such things as ghosts, the physics simply do not-"

"Brennan!" Cam interrupted, mentally berating herself for asking that. "What is it?"

"We have a problem. It seems Booth could still be a very viable suspect."


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The Conversation at the Coffee Cart

Booth sipped at his cup of coffee, soaking up the warm May sunshine. He loved this time of year in Washington D.C., with the weather finally losing it's winter coolness and the cherry blossoms coming out all around the city. But even the great weather and the beauty of his surroundings couldn't brighten his mood.

Crossing his legs, he made sure his jeans covered the ankle monitor that was strapped just above his anklebone, humiliated that he even had to wear it in the first place. He wasn't a criminal, damn it; he was a veteran who served his country honorably in two wars and an FBI Agent with one of the best close rates in the Bureau. The fact that they were even considering him as a suspect in this case was an insult. Hacker was lucky he wasn't the D.C. sniper because if he was, taking him out seemed like a logical next step.

Sitting here at the coffee cart, he didn't miss the irony of the situation he was presented with. About a year ago, he told Bones they would meet at the coffee cart when they both got back from their respective other jobs. Only that meeting didn't happen, not yet at least. Since they had both gotten back early, things had been so backwards. He couldn't help but think that the universe was punishing them for getting back early and if they had taken the time they needed apart from each other, things would have been better when they got back. But instead, they were in this rut, where they couldn't talk to each other and he couldn't read her like he used to. He couldn't stop the small smile that spread across his face, thinking Bones would call him crazy for saying that but he didn't think she could deny that something was different. That's why he was here today; he was in over his head and he needed his best friend to help him get out.

Hannah was angry when he called her this morning, demanding to know where he was all night. He couldn't tell her about the FBI investigation; he couldn't have her thinking that he was a criminal. No, he needed to talk to the woman who knew him better than anyone else did, someone who wouldn't ask him to get into the mind of another sniper.

"Booth? You okay?"

He almost jumped off the bench at her statement, not hearing her approach, wondering where his supposedly great sniper skills went. "Bones! Sorry, I didn't hear you coming," he said, scooting over to make room for her. She sat down on the bench cautiously, and Booth was worried that she was scared of him, that she thought he could actually be capable of this. Calm down, he told himself; this is Bones you're talking about.

"I got you some coffee," he said, thrusting the cup at her. "I got it how you like it; no sugar with a little bit of milk, or at least how you used to like it. It's been awhile since we have had coffee together."

She didn't say anything and he started to squirm, hoping she wasn't angry with him. He looked around, hoping that she would say something soon. Hannah already wasn't talking to him but for some reason, the thought of Bones not talking to him hurt even more his girlfriend's current anger.

"The first sniper victim is Karrina Adams," she finally said.

"What?" he said, not quite believing what she told him. This couldn't be happening. His ears started ringing, and suddenly he was completely deaf to the world around him. His vision started to narrow and he put his head in his heads, resting his elbows on his knees, convinced he was going to pass out. Just when the world was spinning precariously off its axis, he felt her touch his back, placing her hand right in the center and lightly rubbing back and forth, anchoring him to this bench and more importantly, to her.

"Bones, you know I didn't do this right? I couldn't do this. My cosmic balance sheet was already messed up enough this last time I went back, I couldn't come back here and continue to up the ante against me, I just couldn't," he said in a rush, unaware his voice was rising and he was attracting the attention of passerby's around them. But in that instant, as he looked deep into her cerulean eyes for any doubt, there was nothing more important to him than her belief in him, her belief that he was not capable of this. But how could she think you're innocent, he asked, looking at the discoloration of the skin around one of her eyes, knowing that he made it that way.

She applied her touch more firmly, trying to communicate her presence to him in a way that he might understand in his frenzied state. She had to stop herself from asking the one question she wanted to and reassure him before he lost it.

"Booth, it's okay. I don't think that you did this. Actually, I know you didn't do this. Even if all the evidence pointed straight toward you, I would not believe it."

As he looked into her eyes and saw the truth of her statement, saw her absolute belief in him; he could finally breath again, feeling as though he came back to himself. And suddenly, all the feelings of comfort and security he felt when he was around Hannah were dwarfed by her simple assurance; that she would throw away every rational piece of scientific evidence because of her faith in him. How had he ever forgotten about this feeling, the familiar feeling of the strength of their bond?

"Thanks, Bones. It means a lot to me that you would say that. Have you and the squint squad discovered anything yet that leads these people directly to me?" he asked, feeling like the ankle bracelet that was tracking his every move tightened even though he knew that was impossible. He felt her hand tightened against his back before she removed it completely, folding them together in her lap.

"Booth, I can't talk about the case with you, not while you're still a suspect. If Agent Perotta found out I was here right now… I'm lucky she hasn't forbidden me from working on the case thus far."

Booth sighed, knowing it was unfair of him to ask that question. "Sorry, Bones. I guess I'm just so used to working cases together that it just slipped out. I'll be more careful, I promise."

"We haven't done that, for a while; talk about cases together, I mean. Usually, you just want to see the paperwork."

He winced at her statement but didn't refute it, knowing it was true. They sat there for a minute, Booth not knowing what to say next and half hoping she would put her hand on his back again. He envied the people around them, bustling about their daily lives, not having to wear jeans in the nice weather to hide the ankle bracelet strapped to their legs.

"Booth, where was Hannah last night, when you were at the Bureau? I would have thought she would have been the first person there to support you through this."

For the briefest of seconds, he thought about lying to her, telling her that Hannah was out of town on a case or that the FBI didn't let members of the Washington Press Corp into the Bureau; but this was Bones. She was horrible at reading people, but she could read him like a book and she would know in a second that he was lying. And after all the faith she had put in him these past couple of months even though he had not been the partner she needed, she deserved his honesty. A look of disappointment in her eyes would be his undoing.

"I didn't tell her," he mumbled, right as a large bus went by.

"What was that, Booth? I didn't hear you," she asked, scooting closer to him on the bench, so close that their shoulders were touching. He leaned back against the bench, unconsciously seeking her touch even if it was involuntary.

"I didn't tell her," he repeated, this time clearly, as if deciding it was finally time to let his best friend know about the his sham relationship with his girlfriend.

"Booth, you mean to tell me that you didn't tell your girlfriend that you were being investigated for sniping two people? Don't you think she is going to ask about the ankle bracelet?" she asked incredulously after a minute of silence.

"I didn't think that far ahead and I never thought the FBI would actually think I was a legitimate suspect. She was in the shower when I left and I wrote her a note saying I got a break on a case and had to work late. It's happened before, there was no reason as to why she should believe any differently," he said, realizing how ridiculous his reasoning sounded now that he said it aloud.

"But Booth, why couldn't you tell her? You didn't have any problem calling me in the middle of the night last night."

"She doesn't know anything, Bones, she can't know anything. I was so scared that if she ever found anything out about me, if she could see the true me, she would leave me. And she was the only thing that made sense to me when I got back here." He paused for a moment, knowing the next part of his story would hurt her but also knowing that he needed to lay everything out on the table right now, to clear the air.

"When I met her in Afghanistan, I was so deep into my assignment out there that being with her took the edge off, a better, different sort of adrenaline rush. I think at first we were both just wasting time, which there is a lot of in that environment. But she made me feel wanted and invincible, which, quite frankly, was a feeling I hadn't experienced since you turned me down that night after we left Sweets' office. And it's a feeling I needed out there just to survive. But after a while, it wasn't just fun anymore, it was like I needed her, I needed the way she made me feel."

"Well that makes sense, Booth; you have an addictive personality. Your father and Jared are alcoholics and you are a gambler. Even with your strength of character, it is very hard to overcome your genetic predisposition."

"Bones, I just told you that I needed to have sex with her in order to feel like I could function and your telling me that you understand? Simple as that?" he asked. Surely, it couldn't be this simple. He knew that he hurt her and he knew that she had to be angry.

He watched her struggle for a moment and knew that she was trying to compartmentalize her real feelings, which was the last thing he wanted. "Bones, I want to hear it, okay? While it is not fun for either of us to have this conversation, we need to clear the air. Wouldn't you agree?"

He watched her bite her lip and nod. Waiting as patiently as he could for her response, he realized that he hadn't had that itching feeling he was accustomed to in the last several months since last night. This might have been the longest stretch of time since he met Hannah that he didn't feel like he needed her, needed to loss himself in her.

"What you're telling me rationalizes some of your behavior since you have gotten back. If you really do feel that 'itching' as you describe it, those are probably some signs of withdrawal. Addicts traditionally will do anything to avoid feeling that, no matter what the cost to their friends or family. And since I'm one of your closest friends, I have felt hurt and pain at your addictive behavior. But every time you ditched me or said something hurtful, I knew it wasn't you, Booth. I was just waiting for the rational explanation," she finished as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

"I appreciate your faith in me, Bones. I just…everything has been so upside down recently. I've felt like Hannah has been my only tie to sanity, but I don't feel like that anymore. I feel like in the last hour, sitting here and talking to you, the world has begun to right itself again," he told her, looking back into her eyes again and humbled to see the same confidence in them when she looked back at him.

"Booth, you said that you don't think that Hannah can provide that same feeling anymore. Why?"

He shouldn't have been surprised that she remembered his statement but he wasn't sure he wanted to talk about this yet. Clean slate, he kept telling himself. She deserves this.

"Hannah got assigned to report on the D.C. sniper case," he said, pausing when he felt her tense beside him. "She was so excited when she came home last night. I know she has been feeling bored lately, missing all the excitement of her past field jobs, which in turn made me feel guilty because I felt like I was trapping her here. She said last night that the only reason her editor gave her the case was that she convinced him that she could get the personal side of the story, because of me. Last night, she asked me if I could get inside this guy's head, give her some insight into what he is thinking."

"Booth, you can't do that," she said forcefully, surprising him with her tone. "Maybe you should talk to Sweets about this when he gets back. He might be able to help you," she told him, her uncertainty coloring her tone.

Didn't she know what she was doing for him right now? he thought. No, of course she didn't, he never told her. As he looked at her now, he felt the stirrings of the old feelings of affection he had for her. They were soothing and familiar, like the complete antithesis of the adrenaline rush, the release that he felt when he was around his girlfriend. And while both feelings helped him, helped him forget, this one also allowed him to think clearly.

"Bones, you are exactly what I need right now. I know I have hurt you and I know that I don't deserve your trust but I have no idea what to do next. How can I go back and face my girlfriend now? What if she leaves after I tell her everything, about my childhood, about my gambling, about…you," he finished softly. He got up and started to pace, needing something to do.

"Booth," her voice stopped him in his tracks and he looked down at her, still seated on the bench. "Do you remember when Kirby was after my brother and my dad and we found all that blood in my apartment?"

He nodded, not quite sure where she was going was with her question.

"Do you want to cash in on our agreement?"

Now he was really confused. "Bones, I have no idea what you're talking about," he admitted, crossing his arms over his chest.

"In the car, you said that if you were ever scared, you would hug me. You look scared. Do you want a 'guy hug'?" she finally asked and he couldn't help but laugh at her question. When his laugh elicited a flinch from her though, he quickly amended his statement.

"Bones, I think that is just about the best idea I have ever heard," he told her, uncrossing his arms and accepting her when she stepped into them and wrapped her arms around his neck. He sighed as he felt her step closer to him and tighten her arms around him, seemingly needing the comfort as much as he did. They stayed like this for just a moment but it was enough for the both of them, enough to reaffirm that they were back on the right track again; back on the road to being the partners and best friends they used to be. When they stepped back, they stood for a moment, just gazing at each other.

"Well, Bones, I think you have a case to solve," he said, breaking the tension.

"That's right; I have an innocent man's name to clear," she added. He smiled at her, so grateful to have her on his side.

"Thanks, Bones," he whispered, just loud enough for her to hear it. He watched as she started to walk away from her.

"Oh, Booth, one more thing," she said as she took a couple of steps back towards him. "I know I'm not really good with people but you've always told me to trust my gut, even though I've repeatedly told you that a digestive organ is incapable of thought. Maybe you should do the same when you think about what you want Hannah to know about you, about your past, and about us."

He considered what she said and he was so thankful for her, so thankful that there was someone out there who knew him better than he knew himself to point him back on the right track. "That sounds like good advice, Bones. I'll call you later. Thanks again for meeting me, you have no idea how much it helped."

"It helped me too, Booth, a lot." And with that, she turned and walked out of the park, out in the direction of the Jeffersonian.

Without him realizing it again, it was late afternoon and he was shocked to find that he had been talking to Bones for two hours. Heading back to his place, he started thinking about how he was going to tell his girlfriend about everything, every little thing about his life.

* * *

From 400 yards away, on the top of one of the many sky rises over looking the reflecting pool, a man pulled back from the lens of his sniper rifle, having just observed the interaction between the man and the woman sitting by the coffee cart. He was surprised that the man hadn't lost his temper with this woman, like he had with so many in the past. They had even hugged at the end of their conversation. No, he thought, she would not be the next one. He would have no reason to want her dead.

As the man was packing up his gear though, dismantling his rifle and placing it in the briefcase he carried around with him, he was not worried. He knew it would only be a matter of time before he found his next victim.

A/N: Happy Bones Day, everyone! I hope you enjoy the episode tonight. My only request is that if you are awesome enough to leave a review, please don't say anything about tonight's episode in said review. I have to work tonight and won't be able to watch it until tomorrow at the earliest. Bummer, I know, but thanks for reading and please let me know what you think.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

The Ex in the Girlfriend

To say she was not amused would be the understatement of the century. Even "super pissed" could not quite cover her feelings right now. Because last night was the night that she found out her boyfriend, the man she fell in love with and left a job she loved for, was a liar and she suspected a cheater.

When Hannah got out of the shower last night to an empty apartment and saw Seeley's note, she originally felt sorry for him. He seemed off somehow when she came home, which threw her a little bit because she was ready to celebrate her good news about work in their usual way. But the second she mentioned that she needed his input, he froze and almost looked grateful when his phone rang, grateful to get away from her. Usually, he was very attentive to her, almost clingy at times. And she enjoyed the attention. When she talked to her girlfriends about him, she had once compared him to a kicked puppy, desperate for love and affection. That was something that always struck her about him; how this big, strong, handsome man could be so unsure of himself, so convinced that any feelings of affection or love he conveyed would be shoved back in his face. Deciding to give some of that back and be a good girlfriend even though she was tired, she grabbed her keys and went to the diner to grab him some dinner. Maybe they could close the blinds in his office and still have the private celebration she had planned.

On the way to the diner, she passed Temperance's apartment, noting that the lights in her apartment were off. Not surprising, though, given the woman's insane work schedule. She didn't know how Seeley kept up with her sometimes. Hannah smiled as she glanced down at the sunglasses that previously belonged to the forensic anthropologist, now sitting in her cup holder. Maybe that was a little passive aggressive on her part, but she had to hand it to Temperance; she had been nothing but warm and welcoming since she had come to Washington, even though her woman's intuition screamed at her that something had happened between the "just partners." But if it had, Seeley made it very clear that it was her he was interested in, usually several times a night, so she wasn't concerned. Seeley was hers and it was wonderful.

The diner was packed, as usual, but she made good enough time, avoiding the traffic on the freeways and using the side streets to get to the Bureau, probably her least favorite spot in D.C. Seeley's co-workers hated her. While she understood and was happy Seeley didn't seem to care, it angered her that she had to put up with the glares every time she walked through this building. Maybe if they didn't screw up so much, she wouldn't have as much to write about, so in reality, it was their fault, not hers, that she profited of their incompetence.

Walking up to the front desk to get a visitor's badge, she spotted someone familiar being waved through by the security guards.

"Dr. Saroyan!" she shouted, leaving the food at the desk momentarily. Her natural curiosity that made her a great journalist was peaked at Cam's presence here tonight. She knew from the past cases Seeley had told her about that it was usually just him and Temperance that worked on the paperwork. The woman was obviously surprised to see her, narrowing her eyes for a moment before realizing who it was. A brief look of panic crossed her face before Hannah noticed she schooled her features to reflect nothing, just a cautious smile.

"Hannah," she greeted, desperately trying to stay calm. She did not do well when surprised and usually couldn't stop herself from talking. And having no idea how much Booth had told her about why he was here, she decided to be as vague as possible. "What are you doing here at this late hour?"

"Seeley left me a note saying he got a break in the case and had to come in late tonight. I brought him dinner," she said, turning briefly to point at the food containers still sitting on the desk at the guard's station. "What are you doing here? Seeley said he got a break in the case. Is the lab bustling with whatever new evidence was found?" she asked, knowing exactly the how to ask the minimum number of questions to get the maximum amount of information.

Cam felt her heart rate rising, trying not to panic. She could strangle Booth right now for putting her in this position. "Well, I'm actually not here to see Booth and the lab was empty when I left it. I'm here to see Dr. Sweets, yes, that's right. He asked me to come by to discuss, um, the personality tests my staff took to better utilize the lab personnel," she said, forcing herself to stop talking.

Hannah knew instinctively that the doctor was lying. "That's interesting. Seeley told me that his session with Dr. Sweets was cancelled yesterday because the young doctor was out of town for the week with his girlfriend," Hannah informed her, every journalistic instinct she had screaming at her that something was not right.

The urge to strangle Booth was becoming more intense. "Well, he told me before he left to pick up the results from his office and review them so we could discuss them in more detail once he got back. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really have to get going," Cam told her, quickly walking through the lobby to avoid giving any more information away. She really needed to stop talking before she starting giving out case details.

Hannah looked after the lab administrator, curious as to the real reason why she was here tonight. She thought that the 'squints' as Seeley called them were a little strange but this was beyond ridiculous. Walking back over to the guard's station, she was surprised to see that her visitor's badge was not on the counter yet.

"Is there a problem?" she inquired, wondering if this was just the Bureau's way of keeping her out.

"Sorry, ma'am, but we have no record of Special Agent Booth checking into the Bureau tonight. He hasn't been here since this morning. I'm afraid you'll have to surprise him with this dinner somewhere else," the guard told her, glancing back down at her computer screen immediately, silently dismissing her.

Now Hannah was really confused. Why would Seeley lie to her? She thought for a moment that maybe he could be at the lab finishing up the paperwork with Temperance but quickly remembered what Cam said about the lab being empty when she left. Picking the food up off the counter, she turned toward the exit, her mind quickly going all sorts of places she wished it wouldn't.

Unfortunately, in the early part of her career, she covered a lot of scandals in the Senate, mostly the ones about the married Senators using federal funds to take trips with their various girlfriends. And even though only half an hour ago she was convinced that she was the only woman in Seeley's life, now her mind raced with visions of seedy motel rooms that charge by the hour and Seeley's gravelly voice moaning 'Bones' in the throws of passion. Being a journalist made her naturally suspicious and her mind was now coming up with boatloads of different scenarios, all of which included Seeley and Temperance in bed together while she acted like a sucker and tried to bring him some dinner.

Driving back to Seeley's apartment, she tried to think of other reasons why he wouldn't say where he really was, what he was really doing tonight. And while there were plenty of other legitimate, not sleeping with Temperance reasons as to why he was not in the Bureau right now, it was the only one that her mind kept coming back to. With those thoughts also came questions about everything else in their relationship. Was there something that she missed from earlier in their relationship that more clearly pointed to him being unfaithful?

As she climbed into their cold, empty bed that night, the food forgotten on the kitchen counter, she hoped she would wake up with his warm, hard body curled up next to her.

Of course, when she woke up the next morning, she was still alone. And even though she didn't know it at that point, the day was only going to get worst.

The drive into work was hell but for the first time since she got to Washington D.C., she was excited to go to work, excited to investigate a story that she was actually interested in. She didn't regret leaving the excitement of her job in Afghanistan to come out here with Seeley (well, at least not yet, she added bitterly) but she did hate that her job had become more, well, dull. Following politics was one thing when you were in the affected area, chasing down leads in foreign lands but it was completely another when you were in the belly of the beast. She was convinced she had gotten more information out of ex-Taliban soldiers in the past than any of the Congressman's aides she had spoken to since she got here. But now, with this sniper case, she was almost assured some action and she couldn't wait to get started.

Walking in and going straight to her desk, she caught up on her emails and drank the coffee she grabbed before coming in this morning. The office was oddly quiet this morning and she quickly remembered that the President was making a statement this morning on healthcare and she knew most of her colleagues would be covering this story. Let them have the President; she thought happily, I want the DC sniper.

After doing some research on the victims and the way in which they died, she quickly realized that this sniper was not just some idiot with a sniper rifle. These shots were executed in a very proficient manner, with both forensic reports suggesting that the shots were taken from a very far distance away, far enough so the cops could have no chance of catching the man once they found the body. He was already long gone by the time he took the shot. Several hours later, she now realized she needed Seeley's information about how this guy worked, how he set up his shots, what went through his head as he was staring through the lens of his rifle. Any journalist could interpret the information in the police reports to spin a good story but none of them had the advantage that she had: an ex-sniper boyfriend, one of the best the military had ever trained. He could turn this into her Pulitzer.

By the time her phone rang, it was already mid-morning, Hannah finally getting lost in the work that she loved. It was a good feeling and she didn't realize how much she missed it.

"Burley," she answered into the phone.

"Hey, baby, it's me," she heard and her hackles were raised again. She wasn't going to give him an inch.

"Hello," she answered coolly. She didn't say anything else, letting the pause at the end of her greeting say more than she ever could.

"Sorry I didn't call you sooner but I was really busy all last night. But Bones and I think we have a good lead and the case should be over soon," he said and Hannah could tell that he knew she was angry but just avoiding the issue. Tired of his game, her anger bubbled up and she unleashed it.

"Cut the bullshit, Seeley, I know that you and Temperance were not at the Bureau or the lab last night. In fact, I have no idea where you two were last night. Discussing 'case details' in a dark motel room maybe?" she asked sarcastically, knowing exactly what she was implying.

"Hannah, what are you talking about?" he questioned and Hannah could hear the insecure little boy voice that sometimes crept into his tone.

"I tried to bring you dinner last night but the guard at the Bureau wouldn't let me in because he said you were not in the building. Dr. Saroyan said that the lab was empty, Temperance's lights were off, and you didn't come home last night so what the hell am I supposed to think, Seeley?" she asked him, trying to keep her voice from rising in the open office she was currently in.

"Hannah, you know Bones and I are just partners. You know that and you know me; you know that I would never cheat on you. How could you even think that?" he asked, no anger in his voice, just hurt.

"Well, Seeley, I'm beginning to think I don't really know you at all. I really don't think I ask for much and I don't think it is too much to ask for the truth. If you have a problem with that, maybe we should reconsider this relationship," she said, not really meaning it but wanting to let hi know that the possibility of them breaking up was an option.

"No!" he said quickly and assertively, just as she expected. "Look, baby, I'm sorry about last night. Bones and I were at the Bureau last night and I'm sorry the guard told you otherwise. It won't happen again, okay? Just don't do anything rash or make any decisions until I can see you again. I promise I'll explain everything."

"I'll think about it Seeley. That's all I can promise. I have to go now, I'll see you tonight." And with that, she hung up without giving him the opportunity to say anything else. She felt a little bad for treating him that way but she needed him to understand how angry she was right now and that she wasn't going to tolerate anything other than the truth from him.

Burying herself in her work once again, she researched straight through lunch, trying to put the backbone of her article together so she should add in Seeley's information. Journalism today was all about being the first person with the information and she knew she would have to get Seeley to talk to her tonight so she could get the story to her editor by tomorrow morning.

"Hannah, I need to see you for a moment," she heard from across the office and noticed the request came from her editor, standing in the doorway of his office. Carl Lewis was a hard ass and as blunt as they came but he went to bat for his reporters with any who called their stories or sources into question. She respected him for that even though his deadlines were sometimes impossible to meet. Getting up, she stretched for a minute, not realizing that she been sitting all afternoon and that it was now 4 o'clock. A session with the treadmill was definitely in her future.

"What's up, Carl?" she asked as she stepped into his office. While in Afghanistan, she learned to rely on her instincts for information and right now, her instincts were telling her that something was not right.

"Hannah, as of right now, you are off the D.C. sniper story. And for future reference, you can't keep anything from me that may jeopardize the authenticity of something I may publish. Is that understood?" he told her, looking her straight in the eye. Hannah was shocked. She had absolutely no idea where this was coming from.

"Excuse me? Carl, what are you talking about? What information?" she asked, hoping against hope that there had been a mix up somewhere and that she could stay on this story.

"Don't play games with me, young lady. Your boyfriend, Special Agent Seeley Booth, the one you told me could get you good info for this story, has been implicated as the prime suspect in this case. He spent all night and some of this morning at the Bureau being questioned about his involvement." Seeing the bewildered look on his employee's face, he backed down a little bit. "Didn't he tell you any of this? Where did you think he was last night?"

Almost too stunned to speak, she managed o gather herself enough to answer his question. "No, he told me that he was working on a case last night, that something came up and he had to go in urgently to investigate. He never mentioned that he was the one being investigated. Carl, if I had known, I would have told you immediately. I don't want you to think that my journalistic integrity is in question," she told him, not wanting to get stuck on writing up police logs because of her association with Seeley, her anger that him doubling with the knowledge that he might have hurt her career.

"Your integrity as a journalist is the only reason why I'm reassigning you instead of firing you. There is a story in New York City at the United Nations that I think because of your experience in Afghanistan with foreign politics suits you perfectly. Your plane leaves tonight and our New York office expects you to report first thing in the morning. Pack your things, this story is expected to develop over the next two months." He gave her a plane ticket and then said nothing else. Hannah picked up the ticket and left the office, surprisingly happy about the assignment that yesterday would have broken her heart. Pulling a box out from underneath her desk, her began packing up her things, devising in her head about how she was going to break up with her boyfriend tonight.

* * *

Booth unlocked the door of his apartment, feeling balanced for the first time in a long time. It was amazing how the talk he had with Bones soothed his senses and now, he was ready to talk to Hannah, to get everything out into the open. If she loved him as much as he loved her, he knew she would accept him once she got over the initial anger at him for not telling her everything up front. But he found he was excited, excited to begin this next part of their relationship together. He hoped this talk would lead to the same silent understanding he had with Bones and he knew it could only add to the intimacy of their relationship.

But when he opened the door and saw the suitcases in the front hallway, he almost went back outside to see if he had the right apartment. This couldn't be happening.

"Hannah? You in here, babe?" he called out, apprehension filling his heart and all the sudden very, very nauseous.

She came out of the bedroom with another suitcase and if Booth was counting, he would see that all the suitcases she came with were currently filled with her belongings.

"Hello, Seeley. I'm glad you're home. We need to talk," she told him and he was worried when she made no move towards him, her face an emotionless mask.

"Okay. What's going on, Hannah?" he asked, being purposely vague.

"Seeley, I told you on the phone today that I didn't ask for much, only the truth, which I am beginning to think you never told me. And quite frankly, right now I don't want to hear anything from you. I almost lost my job today because you lied to me about being the prime suspect in the D.C sniper case. Thankfully, Carl gave me another chance to prove myself, a story in New York City and I don't plan on having any distractions getting in my way this time. I think our relationship has run it's course and I don't think we should be together anymore."

Booth was surprised he was still standing at this point, his brain much more busy trying to figure out what had just happened. Here he was, coming home, excited to take their relationship to the next level and become even closer and here she was, breaking up with him. His brain wasn't even processing that she knew about how he spent his night last night. Her last sentence was replaying over and over again in his head and the only thing he could think of was what he could say to make her stay.

"Is there anything I can say to make you change your mind?" he asked, realizing that he sounded pitiful but she was the first person in so long that made he feel worth something, like there was finally someone in this world not related to him that was excited to see him everyday.

"Let me ask you a question: when you were in trouble last night and you needed support, did you call Temperance?" His silence answered her question. "That's what I thought. I'm not stupid, Seeley. But I deserve better than this. I don't know what may be happening or has happened between you and Temperance but I deserve to be first in my man's life, which I have never felt in our relationship. I'm sorry, Seeley, but it's over." She handed him her key and a piece of paper with a New York address on it. "I think I got everything but if you find anything I may have left behind, could you send it to this address? I'm staying with a girlfriend when I get to New York City."

A honk from down below signaled her cab was here and Booth was at a loss for words, not believing that it was really over.

"I really loved you, you know," was the only thing he came up with.

He saw her smile back sadly at him from the doorway. "Seeley, you may have convinced yourself of that, but we both know the truth." And with that, she grabbed her last suitcase and shut the door, out of his life for good.

He did the only thing that seemed right. He picked up the phone and pressed '1' on the speed dial.

"Bones? I'm sorry to ask this, but could you come over? I really need you here right now."

* * *

The man glanced through the scope of his rifle, looking at the blonde woman getting in the cab with all of her things. He smiled, knowing his plan was working. Seeley Booth's life was falling apart and not only did he have a front row seat but he had a starring role.

A/N: Comments? Critiques? Did it live up to the title? Big thanks to GrayIsTheCatsPajamas for her awesome editing.


	8. Chapter 7

Warning: minor spoilers for the next episode.

Chapter 7

The Eyes of the Sniper

Jacob Ripkin Broadsky watched as Booth pulled out his phone, pathetically turning to someone for help, probably his partner, after his pretty blond now ex-girlfriend left in a cab. He listened through his earpiece, the microphone strategically placed to aim right into Booth's apartment, and confirmed that he indeed was calling his partner. The weakness in this man always surprised him and he was shocked that he was the only one who noticed it. Ever since they had gone through Ranger training, he saw the ways that the kill affected Booth. Instead of giving him the intense thrill that he felt when watching his shot penetrate his target's body from an exceedingly far distance, he saw how it deadened something in Booth. Jacob never felt how something that made him feel so alive inside could make someone else feel dead and only did it because of some sense of obligation to their country.

The rush was a thrill, a high that he couldn't let go of, even though he was no longer working for the U.S. government. And he was regaining the thrill by getting even with the man who turned his craft from something that the government valued to something that since he now was a civilian, was illegal.

When Jacob saw Sergeant Major Booth's name on the duty roster at his current duty post in the Kandahar Province in Afghanistan, he thought there was no way this could be the same man that got out of the Army the second his tour was up. He knew that after Corporal Parker was killed that Booth was ready to leave. Jacob was glad to see him go. With Booth out of the way, his only real competition for the most kills was gone as well. And in the decade or so since Booth's absence, he had really made it count; carrying out every assignment they gave him with deadly efficiency. He scowled when he thought about their first encounter years ago.

_He saw the man walk across the camp and knew instantly it was he. Jacob heard rumors that he re-enlisted for a year but didn't believe it until now. Seeley Booth had not changed much since the last time he saw him and although he had aged, he had not lost his good looks. Jacob ran a hand over his baldhead and wished briefly that he could have been as lucky. But he knew it was a result of a job he loved so it eased the pain. He was never really a vain person anyway. Deciding to bite the bullet, he called out to his old rival._

"_Hey, Booth."_

_He laughed as he could visibly see Booth tense as he recognized his voice. It seemed the man thought he was dead and gone in a foreign, godforsaken jungle somewhere. Not so lucky, Jacob thought, walking over to Booth with a sneer on his face._

"_Broadsky? What the hell are you doing here?" Booth asked him, neither man bothering to shake hands, not wanting to even give the pretense that they were old war buddies meeting up again._

"_What? You worried about your record? Because I smashed that ages ago," Jacob said, his sneer still firmly in place, mistaking Booth's shock at seeing him for a challenge. Jacob watched as Booth turned as white as a sheet at his statement._

"_What, for more kills? Broadsky, that was never, ever something that I wanted to have weighing on my conscious. Are you telling me that you have never left, that you have been in the Army, being a sniper, this whole time?" Booth asked. Jacob was taken aback at the incredulous tone in Booth's voice. What else would he be doing?_

"_Yep," he said proudly. "And it looks like you are here to do the exact same thing. So I guess we'll see who the victor is this time." Jacob smiled at him once more before walking back to his barracks, an extra thrill running through his veins at the thought that there would be another level of adrenaline added to the kill._

_Over the next several months, Booth did not disappoint, still the fierce competitor that Jacob hoped he would be. It seemed time had not dulled his sniper instincts, his instinct for the hunt and for the precise moment of the kill still intact. About three months into their assignment, Booth began spending most of his time with the blond reporter and it really upset Jacob. He did not want his rival's reflexes dulled by the presence of a woman. But if anything, the sex seemed to intensify his need for the hunt and Jacob gladly upped his game to keep up with the number of kills Booth had been wracking up._

_This was the most fun he had in years. Until he got called in to see the camp commander and had been promptly sent home with a dishonorable discharge._

_Jacob was stunned. He had no idea what triggered such a change in his favor with the U.S. Army. In one day, everything he held dear in the world was taken away from him; the only thing left in his life the record he had set with his skills as a sniper._

_When he got back to the United States, he immediately requested his file, trying to figure out why they had dismissed him so suddenly. It took the Pentagon about a month to honor his request and when he finally got a look at the dishonorable discharge, he was furious. The person who initiated the investigation into his file, into some of the more questionable acts while serving his country was none other than Sergeant Major Seeley Booth._

Jacob felt the rage bubble up inside him once again as he peered through the scope of his rifle into the apartment of the man who had taken everything away from him. His finger was on the trigger and he compressed it halfway, knowing he had Booth in his crosshairs and could drop him where he stood, or more accurately, sat. But he took a deep breath, calming the burning for a moment and slowly releasing the trigger. It would be too easy to kill Booth, especially when he had only gotten started.

He popped another caffeine pill and settled back into his position on the roof of the building overlooking Booth's apartment. This was a piece of cake compared to other assignments that he had. May in Washington D.C. was truly a beautiful time.

A silver Mercedes came driving up the street, the sleekness of the car catching his eye. But when he saw the tall brunette get out of the car, the woman who he now knew was Dr. Temperance Brennan, he sneered and readjusted the microphone and the corresponding ear piece, knowing he was in for quite the conversation. These two never disappointed.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello! I haven't forgotten about this story, just waiting for the craziness of the holidays to pass before posting the next chapter. I hope everyone had a happy holiday season and enjoy!

Chapter 8

The Inadequacy in the Intervention

The knock on the door didn't trigger any reaction from him. All he could process were the last words that Hannah said to him. If it wasn't for the piece of paper still clutched in his hand, though, an address in New York City that she would temporarily calling home before moving on, he didn't know if he would think it was real. How could this happen so fast? Two days ago, he was an FBI Agent with a gorgeous girl in his bed that he was intent on asking to marry him and now, she had broken up with him and he was a suspect in the D.C. sniper case, stripped of his agent status and wearing an ankle bracelet like a common criminal.

Oddly though, he did not feel sad at Hannah's leaving. He felt a combination of grief and strangely enough, relief. The grief was at the loss of his stability, the stability of coming home to someone every day, knowing that they would be there for you. It had been such a long time since he had that feeling; actually, when he thought back on his life, he wasn't sure he ever had that. But he also felt relief. After his talk with Bones today, he realized there was so much about his life that Hannah didn't know, that she would need to know in order to have a long, successful relationship with him. And after she reacted to him tonight, he was more and more convinced that his initial instinct was right; that she would have run at the first mention of the hardships he had gone through. Unlike the woman who he had just called.

The opening of his door didn't even make him stir from the position he was in currently, sitting on his couch, staring at the floor with the piece of paper in one hand and his cell phone in the other. The last thing he remembered doing was calling Bones to come over here. He wasn't even sure why he called her; it was the only thing that seemed right at that moment. But now that he thought about it, maybe he should call her and tell her not to come over. He had no idea what he was going to say to her.

"Booth?" he heard and wondered where the noise had come from, only to look up and see Bones sitting on the coffee table in front of his couch. When did she get here? He thought.

"Bones? How did you get in here?" he asked her, genuinely confused as to how much time passed since Hannah walked out his door.

"Booth, your door was open. Why are you just sitting here? Where is Hannah?"

At the mention of her name, Booth felt himself getting angry, felt the itching he had previously felt underneath his skin that signaled his intense need for her turn to rage at the fact that she so easily dismissed him. There had been very few times in his life when Booth told someone he loved them; in fact, he could think of two other people he had told that to in his adult life, one was Parker and the other was Rebecca. He looked up at Bones, saw the questioning in her eyes at why he had called her and in that moment, he realized how similar they really were.

"Bones, why is it that everyone who loves us leaves us?" he asked out of the blue, voicing what he just realized about the both of them. He almost laughed at the predictable look of shock that crossed her face at his question and he was glad that some things never changed. If there was one thing that Bones didn't like, it was a change from her structured, ordered world of science and bones, where every action has an equal and opposite reaction.

"What?" she asked. Booth saw her squirm in her spot on the coffee table and he knew that even though she asked the question, she wasn't really sure if she wanted the answer.

"I mean, look at us. Both of our parents left us, granted underneath very different circumstances. Rebecca rejected me and took my son with her, Cam and I didn't work out, not once but twice, and now the woman who was living with me for the last seven months just left me," he said, not finished with his rant but stopping when Bones put her hand on his knee, not only stopping its nervous bounce but also his talking.

"Wait a minute, Hannah left? As in 'broke up with you' left or just 'leaving for a little bit but coming back' left?" Bones interrupted him, learning a thing or two from their interrogations together, as she made sure to get all the information she could, clarifying every last detail.

"The first one, Bones," he replied, leaning forward and scrubbing his hands over his face, still not believing the truth even though he just voiced it to her. He just wanted to go in his room, wash his sheets so they didn't smell like her and break his heart even further, and sleep for about two days. The last time he got a good night's sleep was two days ago, before all of this craziness started. When he felt her hand tighten on his knee, he pulled his hands away from his face and was surprised to see the barely disguised rage in her eyes. The last time he saw that look was when Taffet had challenged her.

"Was it because you told her your past like we talked about today? Because if it was, Booth, then she doesn't deserve you. Despite your past, you are a strong, kind, lion-hearted man that I am honored to call my friend," she finished. Booth wanted to stop her, to tell her that that wasn't the reason why she left but he couldn't help himself. Bones rarely ever expressed herself like this and he wasn't just about to deny her when she started. And when she finished her statement, he felt truly touched. He put his hand over the one on his knee and squeezed it gently, running his thumb over her knuckles in a move that he had been doing since the beginning of their partnership.

"I appreciate it, Bones, but that wasn't the reason why she broke up with me. Apparently, my being a suspect in this case had a detrimental effect on her work. She got reassigned to a story in New York City but she felt like I wasn't being honest with her so she left," he finished, looking her in the eye while he spoke. After a pregnant pause, with both partners not wanting to break the spell, the silence in the room only ended with her statement.

"Well, she was right that you weren't honest with her," Bones said, and Booth only laughed out loud at her blunt statement. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah, Bones, I am. Like I said, I'm used to the people who I love leaving me," he sighed, taking his hand away and getting up from the couch, offering his hand to help her up. He was surprised when she took it, and they stood facing each other, only centimeters apart.

"You know, Booth, not everyone who you love and who loves you, leaves you. I'm still here," she said softly, so softly in fact that he wanted to ask her to repeat it but he knew she never would. He knew he looked like a deer in the headlights but he couldn't help it. Did she just admit that she loved him? No, that couldn't be it, he told himself, now convinced that he heard her wrong. But when she didn't move, definitely invading his personal space and crossing a line of what she was normally comfortable with, he wasn't so sure.

"Why are you still here, Bones, when I have made it so hard for you this past year?" he asked her, truly surprised that she was letting him back in her life so readily and without any malice or ill-will. And he was even more surprised when she adopted her 'squinty face.'

"Why wouldn't I, Booth? You were always there for me before we left. You are my best friend even if I'm not yours anymore. Besides, I never understood why people hold grudges. It never seemed rational to me," she answered in her typical Bones logic.

"You'll always be my best friend, Bones, no matter what," he reassured her.

He felt in that instant that even though neither of them moved, they somehow got closer together.

And just when he was going to tell her that, her phone rang, effectively ending their moment.

"Brennan," she answered into the phone as he went in the kitchen and downed a glass of water. His ears were ringing and his hands were trembling, the events of the last two days finally catching up with him and honestly, it felt like a 2x4 smacked him upside the head. And when Bones came into the kitchen, he knew his night was about to get a lot longer.

"That was Cam. Sweets is back from vacation and they both want to see us at the lab ASAP."

The drive over to the Jeffersonian was done in silence, Booth looking out the window of Bones' car at the various monuments lit up against the night sky. These were all the symbols of the country he had spent so much of his life serving and now this city, the very heartbeat of all these united states, was under attack from someone who seemingly was targeting him. Well, not him, exactly, but wanting to make it seem like he was the one was causing all the chaos.

And that is where his life was right now: chaos. So much so that it made him dizzy just thinking about it, so he didn't, choosing to look at the city and get lost in the lights instead. But thankfully, something went right today and they missed traffic, making it to the Jeffersonian in record time.

Entering the building, Booth was surprised to realize that he couldn't remember the last time he came here. He knew that he came over here for case material but since he started having Bones fax them over to his office, his time in the Jeffersonian decreased down to pretty much nothing. And while he saw Bones a couple of times a week, he realized that he hadn't sent the rest of the squint squad in some time, wincing as he realized that the missed pregnancy announcement was the last time he was even invited out with the team. Looking around, he was grateful to see that the lab was empty, the only lights coming from the lounge. The very last thing he wanted to do right now was face a pregnant Angela.

"Dr. Brennan? Agent Booth? Come up to the lounge. Dr. Saroyan and I are up here," Booth heard the young psychologist say. As he looked up, he saw the young man at the railing in the ridiculous plaid board shorts that he insisted were stylish. Not any style located outside the state of California, Booth thought with a smirk. Bones caught his look though and narrowed her eyes at him as if in warning. While she may be sticking by him, he knew the attitude in the lab was probably a lot different and schooled his features.

When they reached the last step and walked onto the landing of the second floor, Sweets and Cam were sitting on the couches, obviously having been there for a while if the used coffee mugs and the take out boxes were any indication. But as he walked forward, Bones stopped for a moment and she got that squinty expression on her face.

"Dr. Brennan, is something wrong?" Cam asked, obviously seeing her look as well.

"Is this an intervention? Because the last time you did an intervention, you said it involved the person's loved ones and if that is the case, maybe Parker should be here…" Bones said and not for the first time, Booth had no idea what she was talking about but seeing the matching winces on Cam and Sweet's faces, he had a feeling he was the only one left in the dark.

"An intervention? Bones, when did you attend an intervention?" Booth asked, ignoring the look of panic on Sweets' face.

"When I was considering having sex with Jared and was unaware that your father was a physically abusive alcoholic, Cam and Sweets did an intervention on me although I am still unsure as to the effectiveness since they described it as an event with the person's loved ones. And since they are not my loved ones, I do not believe it was an actual intervention," she finished and Booth was sure he looked as uncomfortable as he felt.

"But, Dr. Brennan, it did stop you from sleeping with Jared," Cam added and now Booth knew she was torturing him. He sighed and rubbed his hand through his hair, figuring he deserved some of it.

"That is true," Brennan continued, oblivious to his silent cues for her to just stop talking. "Although I am still not convinced that Jared is 'Booth-light' as you and Angela put it-"

"Enough!" Booth interrupted, thinking this day couldn't get any worse but it was getting pretty close. The last thing he needed to hear about was the play by play about Bones' decision on whether or not to have sex with his little brother. "Can someone please clue me into why we are all here right now?"

Cam and Sweets looked at each other, as if gauging who should be the one to speak and Booth knew from experience that this would be a battle that Sweets would loss. So he sat back on one of the couches in the lounge and waited for the young psychologist to stop looking so nauseous and tell him what they brought him here for. As he went to cross his legs, he saw the ankle monitor out of the corner of his eye as his jean leg rose up a little bit. Even though the people in the room knew about the device, he still felt shame at the fact it was there and tried to discreetly put his foot back on the ground but Bones caught his movement.

"It's okay, Booth. We all know you didn't do this," Bones said to him as she sat down next to him. Apparently, that was the opening Sweets was looking for.

"She's right, Agent Booth. While none of us are here judge any of your actions, we feel that it's time that certain issues be brought to light so that you can more effectively live your life," Sweets told him and Booth stared down the young man, daring him to outright say what he was implying.

"Pretty much, we are here to wake you up to your own reality, Booth," Cam said, apparently finding the balls that Sweets had somehow misplaced. Booth hid his reaction, wanting to feel intense anger at these people for thinking that they knew what was going on in his life. But for the first time since he got back from Afghanistan, he felt some feeling of self-control. It wasn't nearly as much as he had before he left, before Hannah came into his life, but he found that it was just enough to not lash out at his friends like he really wanted to. And he was very saddened to see that when he looked around at his friend's faces that they were expecting him to lash out at them, waiting for him to say something hurtful to them.

"Okay," he said, settling in and steeling himself for what was sure to be a long couple of hours.

And he was right. After listening to Sweets and Cam tell him that they thought he had some sort of morphed post traumatic stress disorder and had transferred his gambling addiction to his now recently ex-girlfriend, he was surprised he hadn't seen it before. The itching and the need were exactly what he felt all those years ago in the Las Vegas Sands when his original addiction began.

He left the Jeffersonian that night feeling emotionally bankrupt and exhausted but he had gotten more out of it than he thought he would, including a business card for a psychiatrist that Sweets recommended who specialized in veterans with addictions. Walking down the front steps, he was looking forward to going home; taking a shower and then getting some much-needed sleep. But he should have known they wouldn't let him go without a fight.

"Booth!" he heard Bones call out to him. He stopped for a moment, knowing he owed her that much even though his body was telling him to keep going.

"Are you okay?" she asked as she caught up with him.

"You know, Bones, I just need some time," he said, echoing a conversation they had during an earlier crisis he had.

"Do you need time and space?" she questioned, apparently remembering the same conversation.

"This time, Bones, I think I do," he answered, changing the outcome of the last time they did this. "I'm just going to walk back to my place and fall asleep."

She seemed to study him for a minute, her eyes studying every single detail in his face and eyes. He tried not to flinch under her examination. When she stopped and looked away, she put her hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, Booth. Text me when you get home."

He watched her walk back up the steps and back into the Jeffersonian before putting his hands in his pockets; one gripping the card Sweets had given him and the other playing with the poker chip he always kept there, as he walked back to his apartment.

* * *

Jacob smiled as he saw Booth begin walking out of the Jeffersonian alone. He had been waiting for this opportunity for three days now, for Booth to be alone so he could carry out his next kill when he knew the man wouldn't have an alibi. While the ankle bracelet complicated his plans for setting up his old rival, it did not stop them completely. He knew that technology well enough to know that all he had to do was be in the same four-block radius as the man and the FBI wouldn't be able to know the difference. The only thing that complicated things was his stupid friends would not leave him alone. But now, he was alone.

Jacob already felt the thrill of the next kill racing through his blood. Quickly, he put his sniper rifle back in the case and started mapping out in his head his next move as he went into the building whose roof he had been on and down the stairs.

Tomorrow, he would regret his impulsiveness, as he would realize that in those minutes that he was in the staircase, Dr. Temperance Brennan trusted her gut for the first time, ran back out of the Jeffersonian and caught up with Booth, linking their arms as she joined him for his walk home.


	10. Chapter 9

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. The site was having issues but now that it seems to be working, here is the next chapter. If you have a minute, leave a review and let me know what you think. Thanks :)

Chapter 9

The Mistake in the Murder Suspect

The walk home was done in silence, neither partner knowing what to say to where to start. Brennan was determined to never let him go though, her gut screaming at her that something was going to happen and for the first time, she was paying attention. This whole situation with Booth was making her feel things that she hadn't felt in years and even though she was scared of these emotions and feelings, she was more scared for her partner. She knew he was in a bad place right now and she knew it was sad but part of her was grateful that she was still the one he relied on in his times of stress and hardship.

"Bones, I think I know who is doing this," he said out of the blue, startling her somewhat as she increased her grip on his arm. She expected him to say something else but he was silent, still not looking at her, just staring down at the sidewalk below them.

"Booth, if you know, you need to tell someone, you need to tell the FBI," she told him, gently, stopping them and turning him to face her. When he still wouldn't look at her, she put her finger under his chin, imitating a move that he used on her much earlier in their partnership and friendship. "Why aren't you saying anything?"

"Because I know him, Bones. I know that as long as he thinks that no one is onto him, he will still think he is in control. Now, he is staying away from you and Parker and the squint squad because he knows if one of you were hurt it would automatically eliminate me as a suspect. Once the FBI figures out that I'm not the sniper, he will be out of control. And you don't want to see him when he is out of control. That really scares me more than anything else," Booth finished.

Brennan had only seen terror in his deep brown eyes one other time; when he saw her attached to that hook after he shot Kenton. In that split second, she realized that the Booth she had always known was back, doing his normal self-destructive patterns. It didn't matter to him that he was on suspension from the job he loved and that a sniper was targeting his life, as long as the people he cared about were relatively safe. But that wasn't fair to him. This was one of the reasons that she hated psychology, she didn't know what else she could do but silently implore him to do the right thing.

"Booth, I'm your partner, right? And partners are supposed to tell each other things. I need you to tell me so I can try and clear your name. I promise, I won't tell anyone until we have enough evidence to bring him in. But I need to know because I need to have some way to help you," she pleaded with him, not knowing if it would work or not. Her old partner would tell her, would confide in her but the man he has been lately left a huge hole of doubt in her mind.

She watched as he shuffled back and forth on the balls of his feet. The nervous gesture was something positive in her mind though because it meant that at least he was considering her proposal, something he wouldn't do as of late, usually just turning her down without a second thought.

"Broadsky. Jacob Ripkin Broadsky," Booth almost whispered, as if he thought this man would hear him and then the real chaos would start. "I served with him over in-"

BANG.

The sound of a gun shot ripped through the still May night and Brennan felt herself being taken to the ground by Booth, who had pushed her up against the door of the car parked near them on the curb. Breathing took a backseat to other functions for a moment as the wind was knocked out of her and she huddled closer to the man that seemed like better protection than the two-ton metal car next to her. He pinned her between his body and the side of the car and while a small part of her resented the fact his alpha male tendencies were taking over, she was mostly grateful for his protection. His hands were on either side of her head against the side of the car, effectively pinning her in place.

"Bones, are you okay?" he asked after a minute, when she finally got her breath back. The street now ripe with noise; the shot triggered several car alarms; sirens were distant in the background even though they were getting closer. They were the only two people out there though, the people in the residencies wisely deciding to stay in their homes although Brennan could see some of them peeking their heads out their windows, trying to catch a glimpse without actually going outside.

"I'm fine," she responded, not liking the raspy quality of her voice. That seemed to trigger Booth's protective nature even more and he slipped one of his hands behind her shoulders and drew her closer to him. She settled against him for the moment, not wanting to admit that she needed his presence right now but accepting it anyway.

"Bones, that shot came from close by, not even two blocks away. I have to go see what is going on. I want you to stay here," he added as he looked down at her, pleading with his eyes for her to listen to him. But of course, that wasn't going to happen.

"What do you think you are going to do, Booth? You are not with the FBI officially anymore, you don't have a gun, I'm not just going to sit here and let you go and try to play hero." Brennan got up with him but at his glare, stepped slightly behind him, letting him at least lead the way.

She followed him as he hugged the building and crept around the corner. It was impressive how quiet he actually was and Brennan found herself not breathing so she could maintain the quiet environment. And even with all the other stuff going on, she couldn't help but think how right he was when he told Mr. White that being a sniper had taught him to walk really, really quietly. So quiet in fact that when he stopped to peer around the corner, she almost ran right into him.

The scene in the middle of the street was gruesome. A man lay there with only half of his head still intact, the other half scattered in an indistinguishable mass of bits and pieces around the body, making the man completely unrecognizable. In fact, to any other person, the gender of this person would be impossible to determine but Brennan could see the narrow angle of the pelvis indicating male gender even from here.

The sirens were just down the street now and Brennan began to feel relief seeping through her bones that finally her and Booth would get some help. Booth seemed to think this as well as he snapped out of the trance he was in and started to come back to himself. He gently laid his hand upon her shoulder as if not wanting to startle her.

"Bones, why don't you go over near the body so you can direct the cops and FBI techs and I'll go talk to the officers, okay?" he asked and then flashed her a smaller version of his charm smile as if to seal the deal. Knowing she couldn't resist that smile in any form, she nodded her assent and walked toward the middle of the street, still sticking close to the protection of the building behind her. She glanced over at Booth as the walked toward the now parked police cars at either end of the street, blocking off both entrances to the narrow street. Brennan noticed that joining those cars were several black SUVs, indicating that the FBI had gotten wind of the murder and had correctly interpreted it to be another shot by the sniper.

Brennan was grateful to slip back into the world she was used to, the world of evidence gathering and making sure everything was done in a way that would stand up in a court of law. The FBI techs, used to seeing her at such scenes automatically deferred to her judgment, securing her feeling of peace even more. Immersing herself in her work was always her solution for being stressed and this time was no different. She didn't even realize it had been an hour and when she looked up, expecting to see Booth right there with his index cards, she saw that he was nowhere to be found. But there was someone there that she did recognize.

"Agent Perotta," she yelled out, getting the blonde women's attention. "Where is Booth?"

The first thing she saw in the agent's eyes was sympathy and Brennan knew that couldn't be a good sign.

"Dr. Brennan, Booth was taken to the Hoover about 30 minutes ago," Perotta told her, not bothering to elaborate and when she tried to walk away, Brennan reached out and grabbed her arm, turning her back.

"What do you mean 'taken in'?" she asked, fearing she already knew what that meant.

"You know as well as I do that Booth is considered the prime suspect in these murders. The fact that he was at the crime scene of the latest sniper victim and that his ankle monitoring confirms that he was here at the time of the murder does not do him any favors as far as the FBI is concerned. They took in into custody and are continuing to question him right now."

Brennan stared at her, shocked for a moment and almost blurted out that she was with Booth that night, that she was his alibi for the shooting. But she remembered what Booth told her about this Broadsky being out of control, so for now, she bit her tongue. If this man was really watching every move like Booth thought he was, she didn't want him thinking anything was going on. But that being said, she couldn't stay here one more moment knowing that Booth was fighting to clear his name and she was not doing the same.

"If you'll excuse me, I need to get back to the Jeffersonian, Agent Perotta. Thank you for the information. Will you see to it that all the evidence gets back there in the proper way?" Brennan asked, not bothering to stick around for the response, directing one of the agents there to drive her back to the lab. On the way there, she called the rest of the team, the squint squad as they had been affectionately named, and told them to get in there as fast as possible.

She, of course, was the first one to make it there, but was surprised to find that someone was working late (or early, depending on how you looked at it).

"Mr. Nigel-Murray, what are you doing here?" she asked after seeing him at one of the workstations surrounding the forensic platform. He jumped when she spoke but quickly recovered.

"Dr. Brennan, I was just finishing up some work on my dissertation. But I'll just be on my way-"

"No," she interrupted him, startling him again. "We could use your help tonight if you wouldn't mind staying a little longer, there is a victim coming in here in just a moment and we could use all the help we can get in identifying him."

She watched as the young man's eyes lit up at the prospect of being asked to stay and help by his mentor.

"Of course, Dr. Brennan, it would be my pleasure."

"Good. Then please make yourself useful and prepare the platform for the body's arrival," she said, slipping back into her familiar routine with her interns.

Ten minutes later, the rest of the team arrived and thirty minutes after that, they were deep in the investigation of this latest victim's identity, although the lack of a face made it kind of difficult. Angela had tried running the prints through the NCIC database but that took time and Booth was still being interrogated by his colleagues.

Brennan was furious. Half of her brain was with him in the Hoover building while all of it needed to be here, on this case, on this victim. But so far, they had nothing to tie anything about these three deaths to Broadsky and they all pointed to Booth. She was terrified to find out this person's identity, knowing that it was probably someone that Booth had been angry at recently if the pattern held true and knowing that it would probably make Booth look more guilty.

After three hours of work, she could see everyone needed a break and told them to take five. Glancing at her watch, she was not surprised to find that it was close to five in the morning and she could feel every single one of those hours she had been awake crashing down on her. And when she finally felt like she was able to sit for the first time in hours, she heard Angela call her from the forensic platform.

"What's going on, Angela?" she asked as she buttoned up her blue lab coat and walked up the steps. Her mood elevated though when she saw the tired smiles on her friend's faces.

"Angela's got it, Dr. B. We finally got the guy," Hodgins announced, beaming with pride at his wife's accomplishments. She saw Cam smirk at him but indicated that it was the truth.

"The prints came back an hour ago as a Dr. Curtis Lewis, a 53 year old psychiatrist. According to his records, Dr. Lewis used to work for the Pentagon, helping counsel veterans and looking into complaints made about soldiers but he retired two months ago, going into his own private practice."

"How does this help us?" Brennan asked, growing inpatient because she was so tired but she shut her mouth at her best friend's glare.

"Sweetie, if you are testing my patience, then you are doing a great job. Anyway, I was able to remotely access Lewis' computer to see his appointments and anything else he was looking into and that's when I hit the jackpot. First, I found a file he had on Booth, which made me think that the poor man was doomed further, but then I found something else. He has a whole file about a Jacob Ripkin Broadsky," Angela finished right as Brennan's heart stopped. Angela brought up a picture of the man who was currently making all of their lives completely miserable. He looked cold and calculating, his eyes black and his complexion suggesting a Middle Eastern background. Angela continued speaking but Brennan couldn't take her eyes off the screen.

"Broadsky was a sniper in the Rangers with Booth until he was dishonorably discharged eight months ago after someone reported him to the board but before that, Lewis thinks that Broadsky has the most kills amongst all snipers."

They were all silent for a moment, mesmerized by the man staring back at him from the computer screen.

"Did you know that the word 'sniper' was actually developed in the nineteenth century during the British occupation of India?" Nigel-Murray said, breaking the silence in the room.

"No, I didn't but thank you for the information, Mr. Nigel-Murray," Cam responded and Brennan almost rolled her eyes at the look of satisfaction on the intern's face. "I am going to call Caroline at the Hoover and let her know what we found so hopefully we can get Booth out of a small room with one little light bulb," she continued as she took her gloves off and went into her office.

"I don't know what that means," Brennan said, looking around at her friends for some clarification.

"It means getting him out of trouble, Dr. B," Hodgins commented. "I'm going to go analyze some more particulates I've got running in the mass spec. Ange, you want to come lie down on the couch for a while?" he asked and even Brennan could see the exhaustion in the pregnant woman's face. Angela nodded and Hodgins tenderly placed his hand on her back, the other one helping her up from the chair. Brennan smiled slightly at the sight of her two friends before the moment was broken by Cam.

"Dr. Brennan, I'm going to head over to the Hoover Building, would you like to come with me?"

"I would, Cam. Give me a minute to put my lab coat away and I'll be right there," she responded.

"Dr. Brennan," she heard Nigel-Murray hesitantly call out to her. "Would it be all right for me to go home and grab a couple of hours of sleep? I've been here since yesterday afternoon and I am completely bush-whacked," he asked.

* * *

"Sure, go home. Would you like a ride, I'm sure that Dr. Saroyan wouldn't mind dropping you off," Dr. Brennan asked him. While he was touched by the offer, there was no way he could take it. He was looking forward to the fresh air and needed to stop by the market on his way home to pick up tea.

"That's okay, Dr. Brennan. I'll be back in later this morning," he told her and went down the steps to the workstation he was at when all this started and gathered his things. He glanced up as he saw Dr. Brennan and Dr. Saroyan make their way to the elevator that would take them to the parking garage and peered in Angela's office on the way out, smiling slightly at the sight of her pregnant belly being the only thing visible over the arm rest of the couch.

Walking outside onto the front steps of the Jeffersonian, the weather was already muggy and his only thoughts were of getting his tea and taking a shower when a bullet ripped through his head, fired from over 200 yards away, ending his life.


	11. Chapter 10

A/N: Sorry for the delay in posting. Between work, getting the stomach flu, and a middle school friend's engagement party, it has been a crazy couple of weeks. I didn't mean to leave you guys hanging that long after I killed off VNM. But here we go, and posting will be more regular. Thanks for your patience, enjoy, and if you feel so inclined, please leave a review :)

Chapter 10

The Guilt in the Innocent

"Agent Booth, is there anything you would like to say in your defense?" Agent Reid Wilkins asked him.

Booth said nothing, staring straight ahead and not making any eye contact with the agent sitting across the table from him. He had no idea how long he had been sitting in this exact same spot but he knew that he was beyond exhausted. For the last several hours, he really wanted to look at his watch but knew the trained investigator with him would pick up on any movement he made and would surely use it against him. So instead, Booth focused on keeping his eyes open and looking alert, not an easy task after being up for what he was sure was more than twenty-four hours.

Although, he couldn't help a small smirk from crossing his face when Agent Wilkins looked completely disgusted at his lack of progress in this interrogation session. Bring it on, rookie, Booth thought as he continued to keep his mouth shut. That is until the door of the interrogation room was flung open and his partner rushed inside.

"Bones, what are you doing here?" he asked, scowling at how hoarse it sounded after not speaking for hours. The scowl deepened when his partner ignored him.

"Agent Wilkins, I need to speak with you for a moment, outside," Bones said, still not making eye contact with him. Agent Wilkins gave him a look that said he better not go anywhere as he closed the door behind him, leaving him in the dark about why his partner was here in the first place.

He was tempted to get up and stretch his legs but he wasn't sure that it wouldn't trigger several agents filling into the room and not so politely telling him to sit back down. Personally, he was too tired to play any games and although he could feel his muscles cramping from being in one position for so long, he hoped that Bones was out there right now convincing him that he was innocent. He knew that when she wanted to be she could be rather convincing and she definitely wouldn't give up until her opinion was known. A few minutes later, several agents walked into the room looking like they meant business.

"Agent Booth, stand up and assume the position," one of the younger agents who Booth didn't recognize told him and Booth felt helpless as he watched two of the other agents flanked him on either side of the table, not really giving him a choice about his actions. His mind was racing; what had Bones told them? Did the squint squad find something that convinced them of his guilt? If only he had a minute to talk to her he could explain whatever they found. His hands were shaking slightly as much as he willed them not to as he got up from the chair and did what they instructed. Placing his hands on the wall in front of him, he bowed his head and closed his eyes for a moment, expecting the cold metal of handcuffs to snap around his wrists any second as they placed him under arrest. Instead of his wrists though, one of the agents wrapped his hands around Booth's ankle, making him snap open his eyes and try to look around his back, curious as to what in the world was going on. In the next moment, the ankle monitor was taken off and Booth could feel the agents in the room back off from their crowded position around him. Turning around, he saw the door of the interrogation room wide open with Bones standing just on the other side, arms crossed across her chest and a fire in her eyes that he hadn't seen since his fake funeral. They connected for a moment and it terrified him that for the first time since their first case together, she was intentionally avoiding eye contact with him. As he was about to go to his partner, Wilkins stepped in front of him and Booth helplessly watched as his partner turned and left.

"Agent Booth," Agent Wilkins said, unknowingly interrupting his and Bones' silent conversation. "Dr. Brennan has come by with some new information that has proven your innocence. You are free to go. Assistant Director Hacker has informed me that your suspension is still in effect until the review board meets next week. You are to stay in the area until then, is that understood?"

Booth nodded absently at his statement, still more concerned about why Bones was avoiding him the way she was. The moment Agent Wilkins stepped aside, Booth rushed out of the room, desperate to find Bones.

"Bones!" he called as he saw her in the elevator. As the doors closed, he managed to stick his arm in between just in time to cause the doors to open again. "What happened? What evidence was Wilkins talking about?"

The look she pierced him with stung more than any punch he ever received. Her normally clear blue eyes were clouded with grief and anger, a combination that made his heart stop for a moment. He instinctively knew that all of it was directed at him but he had no idea why. And suddenly, the feeling that overtook him when he got back from Afghanistan enveloped him once again. The feeling that he didn't know how to talk to his best friend and couldn't do anything to comfort her, not like he could do before…well before everything changed. Shifting his weight from foot to foot, the itching feeling that previously signaled his need for his now ex-girlfriend. It crawled under his like a million ants and he quickly stuck his hand into his pocket, gripping his poker chip with a strength that could have broken it in two. Before he could figure out what to say, Bones started speaking in a voice that was so flat it didn't even sound like her.

"You knew, Booth, and you didn't say anything. You knew about Broadsky and you didn't tell the FBI. I trusted you; I trusted that you knew what you were doing. But I should have known better, I should have known that you were the same jerk that came back from Afghanistan a year ago, the same man who was cold and mean and selfish."

As she finished, the elevator doors opened and Booth stood, stunned while Bones briskly walked away, her arms still crossed over her chest and not glancing back at him once. The ding of the bell signaling the closing of the doors finally startled him out of his trance and he ran after her, not caring about the looks he was getting from the other agents in the hallway.

"Bones," he called out, the echo of the parking garage making the call seem less desperate than it actually was, the harshness of the concrete swallowing the uncertainty in his tone. She didn't turn around though, didn't acknowledge his presence, only a tiny flinch telling Booth that she had even heard him at all. "Bones, will you just wait for a minute? Stop running."

He wasn't expecting her to actually follow his instruction and ran right into her when she stopped suddenly and turned around. The accusation was clear in her eyes but they were missing the usual fire that drew him to her from their very first case.

"Vincent Nigel-Murray is dead," she stated in a voice that didn't even sound like her. "He was shot through the head this morning as he was leaving the Jeffersonian by a sniper rifle, probably Broadsky."

Booth stood stunned, completely dumbstruck by her unexpected statement. "The British squintern?" he asked, not knowing what else to say.

"He's dead because I trusted you. I trusted you when you said that he wouldn't come after us. But obviously, I did not objectively examine the situation with all the variables and mistakenly listened to my gut. It will not happen again."

"What does that mean?" he asked, grabbing her arm when she tried to turn around and walk toward her car again. He wasn't sure if he wanted to know what it meant but her tone was so flat, so cold that he needed to know her intent behind her words.

"I will continue to work on this case but I think it would be inappropriate if I were to come out in the field with you anymore. I have already informed Assistant Director Hacker of this change in our working partnership and he has agreed after I managed to convince him that I would not work with the FBU anymore if this was not approved," she stated very clinically, not looking him in the eye, gazing just over his shoulder instead.

"Bones, please don't do this," he pleaded. His mind was still spinning with the implications of her statement but his mind was stuck on the fact that she was leaving, again. The itching feeling was back full force now and he knew he could almost crawl right out of his skin.

"I have to, Booth. When I look at you, I get an increased production of gastric acid associated with the release of catecholamines when the mind is feeling anxiety or guilt. I need space, Booth. Time and space. Please give it to me," she pleaded in return, finally looking at him. His breath caught for a moment and he was tempted to give her everything she wanted. He knew he was in trouble when she went back to her squint speak again. But suddenly, scenes from an airport a year ago flashed into his mind and he knew that he needed for fight for her this time, for them.

"Don't do this, Bones, don't run, not this time. It almost broke us last time; hell, it did break me. This isn't our fault, this is Broadsky's fault and it is going to take both of us to catch him and make him pay for what he did, for what he is still going to do. Please, Bones, we are the center," he finished almost at a whisper, reaching out to grab her hand, hoping to root her to the spot. He could tell his words made an impact because she hadn't fought him yet, that genius brain of hers working out what he said and her possibilities.

"Rationally, I understand the basis of your argument but emotionally, I don't know Booth." The vulnerability in her tone told him it was time to back off, that he pushed her too far already. He just nodded at her and let go of her hand, watching as she walked to her car without looking back at him.

He stood there for a moment before remembering that he had no car so there was really no point in standing in a parking garage anymore. For a moment he thought about going to catch a couple of hours of sleep on the couch in his office before thinking of his warm bed and figuring the walk to the Metro station was well worth the reward of sleeping peacefully. The roar of Bones' engine coming to life in the silent garage made him jump, raising his heart rate for a moment before following her up the ramp to the ground level and out into the sunlight.

He was about half way up the ramp when he heard the sound of a tire exploding and the sickening crunch of metal as it slammed into concrete.

"Bones," he uttered as his legs suddenly found new strength and he ran up the remaining part of the ramp, desperate to find his partner.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

The Doctor in the Hospital

Angela shifted in the hard plastic chair, wincing as her back protested not only the move, but also the position she'd been in for the last several hours. The baby seemed to protest the move as well as she started kicking up a storm and right on her bladder, using it as a soccer ball in the World Cup. She But what did she expect of a hospital chair? They definitely were not made for people who were six months pregnant.

"You okay, honey?" she heard from the doorway of the intensive care room where she was currently staying. She turned slightly to see Vivian, Brennan's night shift nurse, peeking her head through the small opening in the sliding glass doors that made up the fourth wall of Brennan's room. Angela was shocked at how noisy the unit was, especially since it was two thirty in the morning, but when the doors were closed, the room was blissfully quiet.

"I'm fine, Vivian, thanks. How is she doing?" Angela asked, nodding toward Brennan's still form on the bed.

"She is doing a lot better than when she came in this afternoon. We are still getting a lot of drainage from her chest tube but her lungs sound clearer and hopefully the chest X-ray his morning will show less fluid in her lungs."

Ange let out a breath, feeling slightly relieved at the nurse's assessment.

"How is Special Agent Defiant doing over there?" Vivian asked with a smirk, nodding to Booth.

Angela smiled slightly at her statement, looking at the man in question. If her back hurt, she couldn't imagine what Booth's back was telling him right now as she looked across the room at the man currently sleeping against the side rail of Brennan's hospital bed. After the third time the nurse caught him lowering the railing so he could be closer to her, he finally gave up and made due with the situation, leaning with his cheek on the rail and his hand loosely gripping Brennan's where it lay over the sheet on the bed. Angela smiled as she remembered the face-off between Booth and Brennan's nurse for the night shift. She had rarely ever seen Booth intimidated but Vivian was not backing down and Booth finally decided to toe the line. It was something she was sure Brennan would have loved to see.

"He hasn't moved from that spot in several hours so I assume he is doing okay. I'm sure though he will be his same old demanding self when he wakes up," Angela said sarcastically, remembering the scene that he caused when they were finally allowed to see her and she was so pale that she blended in with the sheets on the bed.

"Oh, I have no doubt of that, honey. But he looked so exhausted when I came on shift that hopefully he will stay like this for a while," Vivian said with a wink as she left the room, closing the door behind her.

Angela got up to walk around the small room, careful not to bump into any of the equipment strategically placed around the room. Hands on her back, she did some of the stretches that she learned in the last maternity class that her and Hodgins went to. Looking closer at the man next to Brennan's bed, she could even see the dark bags under his eyes in the low light of the unit. The worry lines on his face looked permanently etched into his skin and she knew they wouldn't get any better until Brennan opened her eyes and started talking to them.

But her best friend was still out of it. A sniper bullet caused the tire explosion, which caused her car to crash into the concrete barrier that divided the lanes in the parking structure. Angela didn't want to think about what would have happened if Booth wasn't right there to call 911 as the ensuing collision caused three of Brennan's broken ribs to penetrate her left lung, causing a traumatic pneumothorax. The concussion she sustained suddenly became secondary to the insertion of a chest tube to drain out the fluid building up in the pleura and let the lung re-inflate. The look on Booth's face when she rushed into the family lounge outside the unit told her how serious her injuries really were.

The bullet was the same custom-made sniper bullet that had taken out four people so far, including their very own Mr. Nigel-Murray. Her eyes misted over, making it hard to see as she sat down again, feeling her chest tighten up at the still unfathomable loss of their friend and co-worker. Jack was at the FBI right now with Sweets and Caroline, trying to get all the evidence assembled so that they could try and get an arrest warrant for the man that was making their lives hell right now.

She sat down and exhaustion finally was taking its toll as her eyelids fell and her head dropped forward before she jerked it back up when her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. Thinking about ignoring it, she looked down and saw the name 'sexiest man alive' on her screen. She rolled her eyes at the name he put himself under in her phone but got up and stepped outside the unit to talk to her husband.

"Hello?" she answered, taking advantage of the open hallway to really stretch her legs.

"Hey, babe. How are you and Peanut doing?"

Angela smiled and shook her head at the nickname that Jack had given their daughter. When Brennan heard it, she automatically adopted it as well, claiming that she now that she knew that nicknames were a sign of affection, she wanted to develop those feelings of goodwill between her and her future goddaughter.

"We're doing okay, although your daughter is convinced that my bladder is a toy. I swear, I have to pee every half an hour," she complained good-naturedly, absently rubbing her abdomen to subconsciously try and calm her baby girl.

"Naw, she is just taking after her father and doing an experiment. She is calculating how many times she needs to kick your bladder before you have to urinate. I'm telling you, Ange, our little girl is going to be doing great things when she is born."

"Gee, thanks, honey. Hopefully, when she gets old enough, the next experiment she will do is to calculate how many times she has to kick her daddy's shins in order to form a bruise," she countered, hoping that his genius brain would make the comparison. The pause at the other end of the line told her that perhaps he finally figured it out.

"Sorry, babe. Message received, loud and clear."

"It's okay. Truly, I wouldn't trade a second of it for anything in the world," she replied, knowing it was the absolute truth. "How are things on your end?"

"That's why I called. Caroline, the ball buster she is, called Judge Andrews about an hour ago, all but demanding that the warrant be issued right this second. I swear, this poor judge issued the warrant just to get Caroline off the phone so he could go back to sleep. But the end result is the same; we got the warrant and the men in black are now organizing a plan to go after Broadsky." There was a pause and Angela couldn't help the rock that formed in her stomach. "They need Booth down here now so that they can get a better profile of this guy, where he might be, who he might turn to for help."

"Then Jack, you come here and try to pry Booth away from Brennan's bedside because I'm telling you right now that it's not happening. You should have seen him earlier when they made us step out of the room so the nurse could do her assessment," she stated, dreading the idea of doing what her husband was asking her to.

"Ange, we need to get this guy. I know that you know that, but Booth is our best hope of tracking him down as soon as possible."

She continued to pace back and forth, not knowing what to say or what to do. She did know though that trying to get Booth away from Brennan right now was going to take an act of G-d.

"Sweets says he's going after us now, Ange. Vince was just the start. I know that you don't like it when I try to boss you around but I need for you to stay at that hospital with Dr. B and find a way to send Booth over here. I don't know what I would do if I lost the two of you."

Surprisingly, she felt the wetness of her tears on her cheeks at the sincerity in her husband's voice. He usually was so irreverent and sarcastic but when he looked at her sometimes or talked to her, she could see the amazing, kind-hearted man that she married. And the fact that she knew those words and those looks were only for her made her throat close up with choked back tears and a warmth spread throughout her body. Her daughter must have felt the warmth of her daddy's love too because the furious kicking now became a more soothing gentle movement.

"Okay, Jack, I'll go wake up Booth. But just so you know, I am giving him permission to shoot you when he gets to the FBI," she told him, trying to add some levity to the moment before her hormones went even more crazy and she ended up crying, alone in the family lounge of the hospital.

"Thanks for the support, babe. I'll let Caroline know that he is on his way. Love you, say hi to Dr. B for us when she wakes up."

"Sounds good, hun. Love you, too," she finished, hanging up and steeling herself for waking the beast.

Getting buzzed back into the unit, she walked down the hallway to Brennan's room but before she opened the door and went inside, something caught her eye. Through the glass window and sliding door, she noticed Booth was now sitting up in the chair beside her bed and although she couldn't hear anything inside the room, she saw his lips moving, indicating that he was talking to the still out of it Brennan. One hand was still holding onto hers, possessively yet tenderly at the same time, while the other was carefully brushing her bangs back from her forehead. Two things were clear in his movements: love and desperation. She couldn't help but wondering if he had ever been this obvious with his affection for her when she was awake. But even if she had a video camera and could record this moment for Brennan to see later, she wouldn't. In fact, if she weren't so drawn to the scene, she would have felt the need to look away by now. The tragic beauty in the scene was something she wished she could capture and paint, knowing surely it would result in a cacophony of colors that was unmatched previously in the art world. She wasn't sure how long she had stood there but the nurses at the nurses station must have been wondering if she was okay and before Vivian could come ask, she went into the room, unfortunately breaking the moment of comfort for Booth.

"Ange, what time is it?" he asked when she walked into the room. Angela raised one eyebrow, looking at the clock that was on the wall of the room and wondering why he couldn't do the same. But then she looked at him and realized that he hadn't moved his eyes from Brennan's face since she had been watching him and for some reason, it felt like an affront for him to pull his eyes away from here to do something as silly as look at a clock.

"It's about three in the morning, Booth. And no, she didn't wake up while you were asleep. I would have woken you if she did," she said, pre-empting the question he was sure to ask. He just nodded, still not tearing his eyes away from Brennan.

"Booth," she started, almost heart-broken at having to tear this man away from her. "That was Hodgins on the phone. He said that Caroline managed wake up a judge and get an arrest warrant. The only catch is," she said once she saw a hopeful look in his eyes, "they need you to go over to the Hoover right away so you can help them figure out where Broadsky is."

For a moment, Booth looked paler than Brennan, finally looking at her for the first time since she entered the room. At first, she saw complete devastation in his eyes at the thought of leaving her bedside but then came a steely resolve that she hadn't seen since the gang had gotten back together. And in that moment, she knew that Jacob Ripkin Broadsky should be very, very afraid.

"I understand, Angela. Will you tell her when she wakes up where I am, please? I don't want thinking that I left her, not again," he said, standing up and wistfully cupping her cheek before marching out the door, not turning back once. Angela sighed and sat back down in the chair, resuming her watch on her friend, not noticing an hour later when Vivian came in and draped a blanket over her sleeping body.

* * *

Booth zipped up his green jacket tight when he walked outside the hospital, the early morning hours even in May cooling down quite a bit from the daytime high. For this early in the morning, the hospital was still buzzing with activity, Nurses and EMTs were hustling around, tending to whatever patients came their way. Cursing the fact that he still didn't have a car, he headed down the sidewalk, grateful that the Hoover was only a couple of blocks away. It was noisy around the hospital, lots of sirens and cars about, making them seem more crowded than it was during this morning hours.

But it was something else entirely that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. An ambulance whizzed by, it's swirling lights illuminating the light sky and making the face of the man across the street perfectly clear.

"Broadsky," he said, making eye contact with the man who was standing right across the street from him. The two men made eye contact for a minute, both frozen in the realization of the small distance between them. It wasn't until Booth started running towards him that Broadsky took off running in the opposite direction.

The concrete sidewalk beneath his feet took a brutal beating as Booth gave chase, only thinking about catching the man who was running away from him. He didn't let his exhaustion bother him, somehow managing to push it to the back of his mind and only concentrating on the back of the man running in front of him. The adrenaline was racing through his veins, pumping in faster when he realized he was gaining ground on the man. For once he was thankful for the early morning hour, the time ensuing that there were very little obstacles between him and the man he was chasing.

His lungs burned with the effort and even the large breaths he was taking didn't seem to satisfy his body's oxygen requirement, starting to feel a little dizzy even though he kept pressing on. The blare if sirens finally reached his ears and he looked over to see a Washington D.C. police car following them, apparently curious what would make two me chase each other through the deserted streets. Booth sent up a quick prayer though that they catch the right man this time, having been hauled around by law enforcement enough in the past three days to last a lifetime.

Luckily, this time his prayer seemed to be answered as the car sped up, cutting both him and Broadsky off. Broadsky seemed to slow down as the policeman got out of the car but Booth could clearly see the outline of a nine millimeter at the small of his back and he was not about to take any chances. As he saw Broadsky reach around for the gun, Booth used the very last of his energy and hurled toward him, knocking both of them to the ground.

"Police, freeze! Don't move, either of you, or we'll shoot!" he heard one of the men yell as Broadsky managed to and a solid punch to his right eye. As Booth looked up at the man who had for the moment managed to get the upper hand, he froze for a moment as he saw the true evil and bloodlust in his opponent's eye. Booth wasn't scared of much but he realized in an instant that this was someone to truly be terrified of. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Broadsky raise his fist, getting ready to land another punch, but he wasn't the only one with Special Forces training as Booth grabbed his arm and rolled them over, managing to pin Broadsky to the ground.

"I'm Seeley Booth with the FBI!" he yelled at the advancing police officers, neither looking old enough to have a driver's license, much less serve and protect. Broadsky squirmed underneath him and Booth increased the pressure of his knee on the other man's back. "This man is Jacob Ripkin Broadsky and there is a warrant for his arrest out! He is the D.C. sniper and he is armed and dangerous!"

"You got ID, sir?" the cop on the right asked, clearly suspicious. Booth cursed under his breath again, remembering that he technically wasn't with the FBI and making a decision.

"I don't and I know you can't trust me right now so take us both in. Once at the station house, have your supervisor call the FBI. They will verify my story," he pleaded, hoping that this would work.

"This man is crazy," Broadsky countered from underneath him. "I was leaving my sick mother at the hospital when he started chasing me-"

"Shut up, both of you!" the other officer said. "Hank, let's take them both in, get it sorted at the house."

Guns drawn, the police officers did as Booth said and even though Booth hated being patted down, handcuffed and put in the back of the police car, he couldn't help but smiling when they did the same to Broadsky. An when they were sitting side of side on the backseat, Booth felt victorious, the same ten feet tall invincible feeling he once only got from gotten from a roll in the hay with his girlfriend had returned at the thought of a job well done.

"I don't know what your smirking about, Seeley," Broadsky said from beside him, a personification of pure evil. "This isn't over."

Booth didn't lose his grin as he returned Broadsky's eye contact. "Really, Jake? Because it sure seems that way to me."


	13. Chapter 12

A/N: Here it is, folks, the final chapter. Thank you so much for your support of this story. I would especially like to thank GreyIsTheCatsPajamas for giving me her seal of approval on each and every chapter. I'm really curious to hear what you think so if you feel so inclined, leave a review. Thanks again and enjoy!

Chapter 12

The Paying in the Past

"Good evening, everyone, our top story tonight is about the D.C sniper, who has been identified and taken into custody, according to a statement released by the Federal Bureau of Investigation earlier today. Jacob Ripkin Broadsky, a 39-year-old male formerly in the United States Army Rangers, was arrested early this morning by the Washington D.C. police department after being tracked down by FBI Special Agent Seeley Booth. The Bureau has yet to release what evidence they have against Broadsky but Assistant United States Attorney Caroline Julian said today in a statement to the press that with evidence gathered with help from the Jeffersonian Medico-Legal Lab, she does not anticipate a problem with his eventual conviction for the murders of Karrina Adams, Alvin Fung, Dr. Curtis Lewis, and Vincent Nigel-Murray. For more on this story, we head to our field reporter Jessica Nario at the J. Edgar Hoover Building-"

Brennan turned off the television mounted on the opposite wall of the intensive care unit hospital room she was currently a resident of, deep in thought about the news report she just heard. While she was relieved that Broadsky was off the street and knew that the evidence her team gathered would hold up under scrutiny, she found that Broadsky was the furthest thing from her mind, more focused on the other man mentioned in the news report.

She loved him. She was in love with him.

But she was also really, really angry with him.

She had not heard from her partner since she woke up in the hospital this morning, finding a sleeping Angela to be her only company. Her friend quickly assured her that Booth faithfully stayed by her side until about three this morning when he was called away to help catch the man who put her in the hospital to begin with, shooting out her tire when she was leaving the Bureau. The chest tube still ached constantly as she winced at the thought of a plastic tube being inserted in between her ribs and into the space around her lungs. Pushing the button that delivered pain medication intravenously upon her command, she sank back into the pillows of the uncomfortable bed, trying to find a position that did not press on the insertion site. But she knew that the chest tube was not the only thing that made her chest ache.

Closing her eyes, she wished that she could get some sleep but the noisy thoughts running through her head stopped any hope of resting. Although it was completely irrational, she blamed herself and Booth for the death, no, murder, of Mr. Nigel-Murray. They knew about Broadsky, they knew that he was the sniper and yet, Booth convinced her to say nothing. And because she trusted him, his knowledge of people, she kept silent upon his request. She was convinced that the center would hold and in turn, they would hold up everyone who relied on them, like it had always been.

But it was all a lie. The center did not hold.

She sighed, feeling the irrational guilt crash down upon her again. But was it irrational? Ever since they had gotten back from their respective enforced sabbaticals, they had been different. So different that even she could tell that something had changed, something was off. Was she right to put her trust in them again after she knew that they weren't the same? More importantly, was she right to put the well being of her team in her and Booth's hands? It might be the overwhelming hormones running through her system because of the stress of the last several days but her mind kept coming to one answer: no. And irresponsible was not a feeling that she liked.

"Can I get you anything right now, dear?" she heard from beside her bedside and looked up to see that her day nurse, Nancy, had come next to her without her even knowing.

"I'm okay right now, Nancy, thanks. I just really want to get some rest right now," she answered, giving her a small smile.

"Well, you have a visitor right now, a Seeley Booth. Would you like me to send him in?" Nancy asked compassionately.

Brennan felt her heart metaphorically stop for a moment as she thought about the man on the opposite door of the ICU. She could picture him in her head; his hands in his pockets, one of them fiddling with the poker chip that he kept there, shifting from foot to foot and almost vibrating with all the nervous energy that was running through his system. But as much as her second instinct was to comfort him, her first instinct was still to run and it was the one she listened to.

"No, can you just tell him that I need time and space? He'll know what that means," she said, knowing that it would hurt him but she needed to think.

"Okay, hun. Let me know if you need anything," she said and Brennan was so thankful for the understanding. Now if she could only figure out what she was going to do, how she was going to reconcile what she was feeling with what she was going to do next.

Because for the first time in her adult life, she was factoring in another person's heart into her decisions. And while she knew it was going to be hard, the other heart was worth the pain.

* * *

Booth walked along the quiet hallways of the lab to the forensic platform, loosening his black tie and unbuttoning the top button of his crisp white dress shirt. Normally, this area would be bustling with activity as the squints went about their work, uncovering the mysteries of life and death. But today, the squint squad was absent, most of them going home after the memorial service this morning for one of their own.

Mr. Nigel-Murray's family requested that the body be flown back to England so that he could be buried in his family plot. It had been two weeks since the young man had been murdered and the Jeffersonian dedicated the Vincent Nigel-Murray Memorial Fountain in the beautiful gardens surrounding the museum this morning. Booth thought it was a beautiful ceremony and was particularly impressed by the speech his partner made about her brilliant former intern. Luckily, the squints were able to rest a little easier knowing that because of the slew of evidence they had amounted against Broadsky, the ex-sniper took a plea to avoid the death penalty: four life terms with no possibility of parole. What made him feel guilty though was that he was more saddened by the fact that it was the first time he had seen his partner since he spent the night by her side in the hospital than the young man's tragic death.

When the nurse came out and sympathetically told him that she needed 'time and space,' Booth felt his heart break a little more. He knew what that meant; it meant that she was running away and had very clearly told him not to follow, at least not right now. But like he told her in the parking structure before she got hurt: he was not making the same mistake this time, he was not going to let her run too far. As far as he was concerned, it was time to go for a different outcome. That's why he was searching for her in the one place he knew she would go after an emotional morning, to her church of logic and reasoning. Spying her in her office, he headed over to the open door, taking his resident place leaning against her doorjamb.

"Hey, Bones," he said softly, holding his breath while waiting for her response. She froze for a moment and Booth felt like he could hear her thinking. It seemed like several minutes before she finally turned and gave him a soft smile.

"Hi, Booth," was all she said before turning back to her computer. His confidence buoyed by her response, he walked in the office and sat down in one of the two chairs that were in front of her desk.

"How have you been, Bones? It's been a couple of weeks since I have seen or heard from you," he said casually, trying to keep any accusation out of his tone. He really didn't blame her for staying away from him and he knew better than to rush her but he also couldn't deny that these last two weeks had been hard without her. He was still getting over his recent break-up and the silence in his apartment was deafening, inviting all the nightmares that sex with Hannah drove away. The only good part was that he had gotten so much paperwork done he got to spend more time with Parker and less time in the office. The lack of sleep though was definitely catching up with him. He found himself nodding off during his meeting with Hacker the other day and considering he had just been reinstated as an FBI Agent, the last thing he needed to do was fall asleep while his boss was talking to him.

"I've been okay, Booth. Thank you for giving me the time I requested. I needed some time to think and have come to some conclusions," she said and Booth felt a knot of dread settle in his stomach. The rational way she was speaking and the way she said 'conclusions' had an air of finality to it, which he did not like at all.

"Okay, Bones, talk to me. What's going on in that genius brain of yours?" he said cautiously, stopping himself from fidgeting in the chair, knowing that Brennan would catch it. He saw her hesitate for a moment, making his heart rate speed up and his palms begin to sweat. Saying a quick prayer that she wouldn't leave him, he buckled down for what his partner had to say.

"I think we should be apart for the next five months."

If Broadsky walked in the room right then with his sniper rifle, Booth wasn't sure he would have noticed him, or even cared. But before he could open his mouth to protest, she continued with her statement.

"Originally, we agreed to be apart for a whole year but we came back after being apart for only seven months of that year. And when we came back, we were…different. To be honest, I don't trust us yet together. The center did not hold because both of its parts were not able to stand together. I need more time, Booth, time to find where you fit in my life," she told him. Still too shocked to speak, he sat there, dumbfounded and sad. Seeing his silence, she continued on like she just told him the weather report as opposed to something that was going to change his life.

"I love you, Booth; I can admit that now and I know you love me too. But I'm worried that if we don't take some time apart, then we will destroy everything between us and I can't let that happen. You are too important to me. What do you think?" she asked.

Strangely, the more the shock of her statement wore off, the better he felt about her idea. She was right, of course; they were damaged goods currently, completely toxic to each other. He hated to admit it but the same itching feeling he had been feeling when he needed Hannah was starting again when it came to Bones. It was time to take control, to separate himself from his triggers and get back to his meetings and sponsor. And he fell more in love with her for knowing what was best for both of them and being strong enough to take the step to tell him. Seeing that she was waiting for his response, chewing on her bottom lip, he finally felt like he was under control enough to give her a response.

"I think that is the right thing to do, Bones," he told her and he felt the same relief she was projecting. All of the sudden, it was like things were calm again, like some of the tension was instantly gone.

"So, it's settled then: in five months, we will see each other again and decide where we are going in our partnership," she said, acting like the issue was settled. But he had to be the brave one this time and implement one more condition of their time apart.

"One more thing, Bones," he said, noticing that she hadn't taken her eyes off of him since they had begun their talk, like she was trying to memorize every detail of his face. "I need to get myself straight again and in order to do that, I need us to have absolutely no contact over these next five months, just as if we were on separate continents. And I want you to think about if you really want to be partners because if you are not totally ready to work together again, then this destructive cycle is just going to repeat itself and I'm not sure I could survive that, Bones," he admitted softly.

She seemed to understand as she nodded, apparently content with his decision.

"So, if we decide not to be partners anymore, then what happens? We have coffee?" she asked and he smiled sadly, remembering their conversation with Sweets about what they would look like if there were no more murders.

"We'd have coffee," he agreed, uncertain if it were true but wanting to hope that they would come out of these five months to become a stronger unit. Sensing there was nothing else to say and wanting to leave before he changed his mind, he got up and started to walk out the door.

"Meet at the reflecting pool?" he heard as he left her office. Turning and seeing the hopeful look on her face almost undid him but he knew that this was what's best for both of them.

"How about the diner? Somewhere that doesn't carry so much baggage to begin with," he suggested and at her smiling nod, he walked away from her, hoping that he would see her again. But he knew in his heart that they needed to be well without each other in order to be the center again.

Hands in his pockets, he walked into the June sunlight, thinking it would be winter before he saw or spoke to his partner again. It was time to move on with his life though and time for Seeley Joseph Booth to find out who he was in the world, as a father, as a son, as a brother, and as a man. And if that place was next to his partner, to the woman he was in love with, then that would be ideal. But if it wasn't where he was meant to be then that was okay too and he knew now that he was strong enough to cope with what life threw at him, that he could fight the battle within.


	14. AN: The sequel is here!

Sequel news

So because of all of your awesome support of 'The Battle in the Booth' and the overwhelming demand for a sequel, I have decided to write one.

The first chapter of 'The Healing in the Hiatus' will be posted within the next thirty minutes so be sure to check it out! Thanks.


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